"Catch me Daddy! Catch me if you can!" i was always good for the chase. i would run after them, my beautiful boys and girls. With far reaching fingers, i would touch the back of their feathery hair. Then, as if by magick, they would twist and turn, catch a burst of speed, and escape my grasp. One by one, the magick disappeared as they came of a certain age. My extended fingers filled with air, i would catch my breath (the only thing, by the way, that I ever did manage to catch). Truly outrun and outmaneuvered, i would laugh as if nothing had changed. "Next time!" I would declare and, sure enough, next time i'd get a whisp of hair-touching close. Then off they would go, under the power of a bit of manufactured magick. They have all grown now, past the magick of the Daddy chase. i sit and wonder when the moment came with each of them, when Daddy's magick passed from his fingers into their hair. i sure can't catch them now, probably never could. copyright 2003 Thomas Paul {WORDWULF} SternerHowe