What if one day
I, too, do not remember
What your name was, so
I’d just point at you,
Sitting bowed and humble
At the other end of the table,
Hoping for the summer wind
Of my second daughter’s birthday
To dry my eyes’ upcoming rain?
What if one day
I, too, do not remember
What your name was, so
I’d just point at you,
Sitting bowed and humble
At the other end of the table,
Hoping for the summer wind
Of my second daughter’s birthday
To dry my eyes’ upcoming rain?
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