Daughter of Pale Fire

Each turn of the page;    
a short memory recaps,    
just an innocent child,    
as she riddles and raps,    
   
her sweet little voice,    
from the heaven is took,    
when I hear her rejoice,    
reading psalms as I look,    
   
she told me a story    
of how the ducks flew away,    
yet in the pond far below    
in its reflection they stayed,    
   
the ducks they flew onward    
traveling dream's endless sea,    
missing half their existence,    
for home, they never could be,    
   
born at the headwaters    
the river remembers,    
as the daughter of pale fire    
catches each mirrored ember,    
      
each raindrop returned,    
raining deep in their soul    
and never again    
did they lose their way home,    
     
this whispering child    
I’ll not deny her again,    
as I get captured in time,    
and I call her my friend.