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BLACK BUTTERFLY
POETRY, PROSE AND PAINTINGS
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For My Father
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I thought I saw you, pushing your elderly bicycle across Granby Street. I was sure it was you, the same grey white hair, the same soldier smart shoes. I raised my hand to attract your attention then, embarrassed, realizing that it could not be you. pushed my fingers through my hair, wiped the smile of recognition from my face.
Once, I thought I heard you opening the garden gate. I could have sworn it was you, the same foot steps, the same laughing voice. I went to the door to open it for you then, stopped and drove the happiness from my eyes as I opened the door to the post man. I took the letters with out a word.
Another time, I thought I felt you touch my cheek as I lay sleeping in the garden I really thought it was you, it felt like your hand, gentle, strong . I woke, sat up and looked around me, thinking I would see your face but it was just the wind, gently drying my tears. |