(For Dad) As I think back,

my thoughts become tender.

I search the tree planted at my birth.

I can imagine Dad's strong arms,

proud like the earth,

sending sound, rich as thunder

through the air.

He loved his daughter,

swung me on his knee,

danced with me,

sang to me.

We had a special path by the tree

to shade our weariness.

He was always laughter-full

and wild like the seasons.

I think of him now,

in this green, distant moment,

through a sea tossed with autumned memories.

Winter is passed,

time is still with his presence.

The isles where I once danced and played wait.

The leaves are young again -

the morning quieter than usual,

and my heart, uncalendared with his love.

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