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By Ricki Mandeville

And, Daddy, you still walk with me in rain,
whisper to me in all weathers. It is just
your bones that rest at Riverside
among the deep green graves,
in the good company of brave who fell
early and those who wore, like you,
their scars tattooed against their hearts
and carried on for years, making
the best of it until their lungs gave out.

Previously published in Shot Glass Journal.

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