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The addict

His body frail

His face so pale

His eyes so dim

His legs so thin,

Once flying high

Once in the sky

Once drugs kept him

Once one so thin,

Now he’s greeted by the soil

Now kept in a coffin like a chicken in foil,

Now only tears can be shed

Now only words can be said

Now that he is dead

By Gillian Sims

My dad

 

 

I can remember him from my chidhood days,

The man I was proud to call my dad,

Who shared in my moments of pleasure,

And comforted when Iwas sad,

 

He taught me many simple things,

Like how to tie my shoes,

He taught me the gardening skills,

And many skills Icould use.

 

He was always concerned for my future,

He taught me everything that he knew,

The standards to be set in my future life,

And things that should eschew.

 

He taught me to be respectful to others,

To help the disabled and those wno were in need,

Not to look down on the poor and downtrodden,

And to work hard if I hope to succeed.

 

I remember my dad with affection,

And I am grateful for that he did for me,

Not just once a year on father’s day,

Every day he lives in my memory.

 

By Ron Martin

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