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Poetry: Special Days
bryan
by Thomas Day

Bryan

Your football rolled off the shelf in
the garage today, out the open
door, and down to the street.

Maybe its the crisp fall air, or the smell of leather, but when I bent to pick it up, I could see you playing in the front yard with you brother
and father.

Tell me son.... is your hair still blond?

and does still hurt..... because I ran that light.

And tell me son....

Do you play football

in Heaven?

Thomas 2006

 
 
 
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