When my photo graph memory,
Only sees Grandfather Lemley,
And his belt strapped to his hand.
Standing in the sunlit door way,
Bigger than any monster of the midway,
The day god stopped listing was the day I became a man.
Ink fell on the page year after year,
Mostly to contain tear after tear,
I won’t hate you for leaving me here,
Running for your life doesn’t mean you’re full of fear.
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