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My Father. R.I.P.

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You were annoying and stubborn
and funny and kind.
You always could give someone
a piece of your mind.

You knew just how to TALK
for a little bit more.
You could hold the conversation
an hour...or four.

Fix up the truck,
find me a phonebook,
I could always count on you
with just one look.

Now far, far away
to a place I don't know,
I wish for the day we could talk
and the hours would go.

Now that you are gone,
we all pay our respects.
Now this poem is done,
please do get some rest.





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