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| Reviewed by Richard Bowers |
9/20/2012 |
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The day was short. the thoughts were long.
my pen hand ready.
my creased fingers jerked to move.
my time slipping away.
bright sunny days.
and the moment flew on to the next way along ahead.
no notice or turning of head.
moments and time stepping on. |
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| Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner |
6/15/2008 |
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:) Your Daddy was big and strong like mine. :) A beautiful memory - very well penned -
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. |
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| Reviewed by Sandie Angel |
6/15/2008 |
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We always remember our dads in a certain way - like something that they do best; or sometimes the things they said. It's a wonder how children can remember everything.
Beautiful write!
Sandie Angel :o) |
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