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Father's coffin lay on chairs in the front room. There was a sweet smell in the air. A single light lit up the coffin in the chilly space. I gazed at him lying there. His hair seemed darker not so grey. The lines on his forehead had gone: smooth and waxen white. I expected(or hoped) he would open his eyes and smile. But nothing; just that unmoved face, eyes closed, deep peace. I looked at the clean shaven chin and jaw: no 5 o'clock shadow as before. I kissed his brow; my young lips touched; wanting him to wake some how. So much I wanted to say, but too late to tell. I whispered an: I Iove you, to the air, hoping he would hear some how there.
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Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
Father's Coffin 1968
Father's coffin lay on chairs in the front room. There was a sweet smell in the air. A single light lit up the coffin in the chilly space. I gazed at him lying there. His hair seemed darker not so grey. The lines on his forehead had gone: smooth and waxen white. I expected(or hoped) he would open his eyes and smile. But nothing; just that unmoved face, eyes closed, deep peace. I looked at the clean shaven chin and jaw: no 5 o'clock shadow as before. I kissed his brow; my young lips touched; wanting him to wake some how. So much I wanted to say, but too late to tell. I whispered an: I Iove you, to the air, hoping he would hear some how there.
TerryCollett
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Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
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