Michael Lynes
I adored his smile; so like mine; snaggle-toothed yellow; he smoked like a chimney; chipped from childhood; “…tragic…,” he breathed, eyes memory bright.
His dark-eyes-caves-dark-shadow-clean-smooth-white-soft and shining; he was my first; a whisper…“I love you Dad.”
His dark-eyes-caves-dark-shadow-clean-smooth-white-soft and shining; he was my first; a whisper…“I love you Dad.”
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