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Could Be Complete.. For My Mother.....

Small and 4x6 sized, old and tinged brown.
Like tea stains on the back.
Looking at it I see me, deceptive, smiling back.

1988, I'm surprised there weren't tears.
For my mother she had left, it had barely been a year.
No one to throw the ball with, no one to take me to the playground.
She never taught me right from wrong, or talked about religion.
If I could reach inside the picture, I would hug that child aching there,
and say, it was all going to be fine.

For one day I'll be a father, and you turn out so divine.
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