Imi, the structural echo created by Ma petite fille gives this poem its emotional gravity. Each return to that refrain feels as though another layer of memory has surfaced, allowing the reader to experience the child through different seasons of her life without ever losing the thread of the conversation.
I also admired the decision to let the French remain untranslated. It preserves intimacy instead of explaining it, inviting the reader to feel the emotion before reaching for meaning. That same trust carries through the entire poem. Every image is given room to breathe, and the closing promise to become the dragonfly completes the poem with quiet devotion instead of resolution. It is beautifully crafted, my friend.
this is so tragically and strangely beautiful. I use the word beautiful only because of some of your lines:
"...if I mapped out the stars to trace their path?"
"I promise the moon will never ask you to divide your light."
"A moment passed, then the wind began to sing, whistling through the clouds."
The beauty feels necessary. If you can write these words, and though I know you will always hurt because of so many of the other words in the poem, then you are still recovering, still healing. And words this beautiful will continue to lead you into a different form of light. A better one.
Hi imi, sweet imi ... this has got to be your best poem yet ... gentle, sad but real ... nostalgic yet anchored into the now ... nice rhythm ... simple and to the heart ... bravo chère imi, bravo ! j'adore ! 🦋💕
My dearest André, you crossed my mind several times as I wrote this poem and I was looking forward to hearing from you. I’m so glad you loved it! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. It truly means a lot to me🤍
Thank you so much! I actually did have the idea but I was in a rush and I really wanted to publish the poem before I left. But i’ll try to record it tonight then I have some and I will let you know if I do.
This reads like a prayer whispered across the years to the little girl who learned too early to trade wonder for discipline, play for performance, and innocence for survival. What moved me most is that you do not demand her return. You offer her a trail of stars, sunlight, wind, and the sacred permission to simply be.
The painful memories carry so much weight, yet they are held with tenderness. Sometimes healing is not about becoming who we were before the hurt. It is about becoming the safe home our younger self always deserved—one she can return to in her own time, without fear or expectation.
That final invitation touched me deeply. May your petite fille follow the light back to you, not because she is being asked to perform again, but because she finally feels safe enough to play. Beautiful, vulnerable, and full of truth, my friend. 🤍🙏✨
Oh that's a wonderful sentimental one, imi. Very touching. And the few French lines, that annotates with such precision the relation in your childhood home ... you created so many images here.
J'aime trop, et ça m'a bien touché... je suis sensible et je pense tu l'as déjà remarquée
This felt less like reading a poem and more like overhearing someone speak gently to the child they never stopped carrying. The repeated "Ma petite fille" became almost like a prayer, each return holding both grief and hope. What stayed with me most was the longing to be loved simply for being, without performance or expectation. Thank you for trusting us with something so deeply personal.
Thank you so much for leaving me such a thoughtful comment! It made my day. I’m very glad it felt more like an experience. It means a lot to know you didn’t only read my words but also entered them. I wholeheartedly appreciate it.
That image of Arthur's Seat was vivid, and the French was great.
Nice work!
:) Thank you so much Mike
Imi, the structural echo created by Ma petite fille gives this poem its emotional gravity. Each return to that refrain feels as though another layer of memory has surfaced, allowing the reader to experience the child through different seasons of her life without ever losing the thread of the conversation.
I also admired the decision to let the French remain untranslated. It preserves intimacy instead of explaining it, inviting the reader to feel the emotion before reaching for meaning. That same trust carries through the entire poem. Every image is given room to breathe, and the closing promise to become the dragonfly completes the poem with quiet devotion instead of resolution. It is beautifully crafted, my friend.
Monica
What a beautiful read my brilliant friend Imi 🫶
Hello imi,
this is so tragically and strangely beautiful. I use the word beautiful only because of some of your lines:
"...if I mapped out the stars to trace their path?"
"I promise the moon will never ask you to divide your light."
"A moment passed, then the wind began to sing, whistling through the clouds."
The beauty feels necessary. If you can write these words, and though I know you will always hurt because of so many of the other words in the poem, then you are still recovering, still healing. And words this beautiful will continue to lead you into a different form of light. A better one.
There is so much love here. You're not asking for perfection, only the chance to hold and protect what was once vulnerable. It resonates deeply. <3
Hi imi, sweet imi ... this has got to be your best poem yet ... gentle, sad but real ... nostalgic yet anchored into the now ... nice rhythm ... simple and to the heart ... bravo chère imi, bravo ! j'adore ! 🦋💕
My dearest André, you crossed my mind several times as I wrote this poem and I was looking forward to hearing from you. I’m so glad you loved it! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. It truly means a lot to me🤍
This was beautiful! Although, I think it would be cool if you read it in your own voice.
Thank you so much! I actually did have the idea but I was in a rush and I really wanted to publish the poem before I left. But i’ll try to record it tonight then I have some and I will let you know if I do.
Please do let me know if you do. I'll give it a second listen. 😁
Of course. Thank you for engaging so thoughtfully.
Of course! Looking forward to your next one too.
🫶🫶😘
Aw❤️
Beautiful!
Thank you so much!
And the answer, I hope, is yes.
The cadence, along with the words in French interspersed, is haunting.
Beautiful. ☺️
Thank you so much. It means a lot to me🤍
This reads like a prayer whispered across the years to the little girl who learned too early to trade wonder for discipline, play for performance, and innocence for survival. What moved me most is that you do not demand her return. You offer her a trail of stars, sunlight, wind, and the sacred permission to simply be.
The painful memories carry so much weight, yet they are held with tenderness. Sometimes healing is not about becoming who we were before the hurt. It is about becoming the safe home our younger self always deserved—one she can return to in her own time, without fear or expectation.
That final invitation touched me deeply. May your petite fille follow the light back to you, not because she is being asked to perform again, but because she finally feels safe enough to play. Beautiful, vulnerable, and full of truth, my friend. 🤍🙏✨
she is here in this poem, in all the innocent moments, in the pressure of life applied callously. You have her now and forever.
Oh that's a wonderful sentimental one, imi. Very touching. And the few French lines, that annotates with such precision the relation in your childhood home ... you created so many images here.
J'aime trop, et ça m'a bien touché... je suis sensible et je pense tu l'as déjà remarquée
Thank you so very much for engaging so thoughtfully Dean! I’m so glad you liked it. It means a lot. And I’m very happy that the imagery spoke to you.
Beautiful
This felt less like reading a poem and more like overhearing someone speak gently to the child they never stopped carrying. The repeated "Ma petite fille" became almost like a prayer, each return holding both grief and hope. What stayed with me most was the longing to be loved simply for being, without performance or expectation. Thank you for trusting us with something so deeply personal.
Stay entangled, my friend.
—The Bathrobe Guy
Thank you so much for leaving me such a thoughtful comment! It made my day. I’m very glad it felt more like an experience. It means a lot to know you didn’t only read my words but also entered them. I wholeheartedly appreciate it.
Wonderful poem, imi. Great imagery and the use of French really makes the emotions come through as you read.
Thank you so much Gary, it means a lot coming from you.