Marina by Charles Bukowski

majestic, majic
infinite
my little girl is
sun
on the carpet-out the doorpicking a flower, ha!
an old man,battle-wrecked,emerges from his
chair
and she looks at me
but only sees
love,ha!,
and I become
quick with the world
and love right back
just like I was meant
to do.

My husband sent it to me, sweet.