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DEAR DAD, II
Dear Dad:
It's just me. I thought that we could maybe chat about your poem and the sad fact that you're not here to realize that it was read beneath Chinese skies.
I'd like to look into your dark eyes - I like to think you might be proud; wish I could hear you say those words aloud... I miss you now. Even more somehow.
Dear Dad I hold within my hand a bit of rock, and a little sand taken from the Salween's edge I keep them on my bookshelf ledge I hold them in my hand, and thrill to think you were a part of that..... Thanks, Dad, I've enjoyed our little chat..
© Christina 9-14-05 -- for Dad.
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Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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