To my daughter, whoever she may be . . .
The Bible says that Adam did it
but I would not be fooled.
My mother named the cat, you see,
as well as dog and bird and bee
and all the beasts of land and sea,
and saw that it was good.
The power of mere emperors
and kings can't parallel
the power that she gave to me
to delve into the mysteries,
to weave a verbal tapestry,
to build from head to tale.
And so, my daughter, I give you
this love of the absurd,
the what-ifs and what-might-have-beens,
the divinity of earthly pens,
the way through which all stories wend,
the wonderment of words.