Poetry: Petitions of Invitation

When I was just a girl
Young and small
Looking frail
Feeling 11 feet tall
The only things that mattered
Were what I could see

I'd ask my father
For some advice
A favor
A deed
And if I was precious enough
If I could smile just right
If I created a pleasant mood
He'd agree

Now I am older
Still young and small
Roughened at the edges
Knowing I'm not tall
The things that truly matter
Are still what I can see

Put away your childish ways
Stop dancing your childhood dance
Don't twirl like a girl
Don't dumb down your words
Don't look like a fool
For the attention of things

If I ask my daddy
For some advice
A favor
A deed
No longer do I make it so
In the way I plead

Raise the question
(As often as is right)
No nagging
No begging
No trying to get on his good side
Leaving the answer
Entirely in his hands

Rarely do I get as I wish
That is the fate I await
(For the material desires
Belong to the child
But the patience to receive them
To the man)

I ask him again tonight,
"Will you do what I request?"
I suspect the answer will remain the same
As it has for the last year
Still
He decides anew
The choice is still his

My task
Is naught but
Ask

(Perhaps he'll realize
It's not a question of curiosity)