Sunday, April 13, 2008

MY FATHER...BY SUSAN SQUALETTI FLORENCE

I think
I am letting him go.
It is not that my love is diminishedor that
I miss him less.
It is only that the sun is upand there is no milkin the refrigeratorand the bunny got outof the cageand is eating my red geraniums.
I think I am letting him go.
But sometimes at nightbefore
I go to sleepI feel the tearsfill up my eyesand run down my cheeks.
I do not think
I will everlet him go.
But he is gone.

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