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Journey with my father

The train slides from the station, the engine horn bursting September, and I ride again the sunflower afternoons I rode with you past childhood delight in red mohair seats, red velvet drapes, windowed rush of passing trains and ice cream served in a silver dish; past days we journeyed deep into lavender asters and needle grass scattering grackles where boys looked up from slender streams and waved. I ride past the years you could travel only the postcards I sent you, the small glossy maps of worlds wider than yours. The train slides from the station and I ride the blue distance and dream that even in your winter were in your china eyes.

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