Little remains in that frail frame To carry on the fight. Yet when he looks at me, His eyes hold firm, Shining in his wan and wrinkled face Both clear and bright. “You’re a good man,” he whispers, weakly grasping my arm. “You’re a good man too”, I reply. But even good men stand without …
Dedication: To my father in absentia on his 104th birthday, November 7, 2010. November sings a lonely tune, A melody of melancholy and despair. Trees sway naked in slow rhythm, Tracing patterns in the autumn air. So stand we all this season, No camouflage for any lack of love, Though longing to hide our nakedness, …