I've replaced the original poem posted here with a different dad/daughter poem. I'll leave the picture. Some people in the comments box feel that the picture is the poem anyway!
The future buries itself in green fields
or blows like ash down universal corridors.
It fails to warn the girl
stepping into a park
grey with bushes and shadows,
or the newborns smothered by a nurse
while their mothers slept.
I kiss my daughter, tell her I’ll be back
at 5. She holds me tight and then trusts me
to the wind, street-corners, traffic.
But the future has no sense
of fair play. It is blind as stone
and in thrall to its own reflexes –
sneaking glances over its shoulder,
paranoid there’s something out there