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(For Dad) As I think back,

my thoughts become tender.

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I search the tree planted at my birth.

I can imagine Dad's strong arms,

proud like the earth,

sending sound, rich as thunder

through the air.

He loved his daughter,

swung me on his knee,

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danced with me,

sang to me.

We had a special path by the tree

to shade our weariness.

He was always laughter-full

and wild like the seasons.

I think of him now,

in this green, distant moment,

through a sea tossed with autumned memories.

Winter is passed,

time is still with his presence.

The isles where I once danced and played wait.

The leaves are young again -

the morning quieter than usual,

and my heart, uncalendared with his love.

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