The Anatomy of Daughters
Breath that is too human to the smell.
Complaints too momentary to consider.
Alternating cereal scoops: hand and spoon.
Inconsistent dress, ill-suited for weather
But bright, happy and free from concern.
Roundness in the face that brings pause,
Mystery and worthy of living.
Gold and starshine through a hundred thousand strands,
Grow longer from the source,
Prone to the tangle, the break, the fall.
Vulnerability in every strength.
Death in every new being.
Hope in all disaster.
My name is Marcelo Asher Quarantotto.I WRITE WITH WORDS, PHOTOS, VIDEOS, WEBSITES AND MUSIC.
I am a father of three beautiful daughters and husband to the most gracious, saintly creature I've ever met. (You'll find pictures of them here from time to time.) I am also a multidisciplinary storyteller.