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Memory Stroked I was a summer blossom given away; tear-scented wedding train, arm locked processional, musical strains, rose petal aisled marriage vows. My dad breathed-- not wanting to release but willed himself. Love leaves that autumn-- mixing then separations and matrimonies, ironies and cleavings, all falling gently from his tree; floating evolving-- winging paradoxes and meanings-- leaf rustlings signaling someone's winter and someone's spring. Dad cries. Daughter loves both autumn leaves and summer blossomings-- a gardenia scent in the heavy air fades quietly-- memory stroked; still trembling. |
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