Playing

My daughter and I play
guitar,
with stacking toys,
the diaper bag,
my lip and bicuspids.

We laugh and connect
and I realize that neither of us
will remember these moments
distinctly
and that's
sad.

Then why do them?

I suppose they form some sort of
ineffable element of our identities
individually as well as
in our father-daughter dyad.

This play like rain drops,
not distinguishably preserved
yet making the ocean of our lives
happy.