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grandpa; This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

By misseili, Troy, MI

His skin clung to his bones
His lungs black with the putrid
Air he feasted on every sunrise
Time is only a gradient but he
Is like oil and he slides past the
Gritty numbers.

Strangers hold his hand and he
Tries to count off the names that
Will receive Hallmark sympathies.

He remembers a faded photograph
Of a two year old toddler with
Rosy cheeks and a wayward stare
Her voice is too broken now to be
That of the child’s and he knows
That a few years ago he had tried

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