She is a willow among oaks
Embracing the zephyr
Dancing in that air
Amidst the envious thicket

I have watched , paternal eyes
Pulled along by days and years
And been amazed to see
It is I who grow, by her
 

She shone across the reef
Marking my passage across the night
And I, trying hard to right my course
Was spared the breaching rocks

She sings the joyous lyric
Of the uncaged lorikeet
Harlequin feathered wings
Ever on display

Her struggle is my strength
My struggle is her endowment
She carries forward
All that I have gathered

As I am evening
She is noon
Though when I become yesterday
She still will be tomorrow

We are risen bread
We are woven straw
We are spinning clay
Still in the making

Inexorably, we are of each other
Who is the maker
Or who is the made
Cannot be distinguished

I love you, Heather – from Dad on your 18th birthday