The Photograph

The old photograph was faded and torn

And she held it like it was as fragile as glass

There was a tear in her eyes and sadness in her heart

She drew a heavy sigh and whispered his name

He had been taken from her far too early in life

And all she could do was dream of what could have been

At this time of the year she really missed him

Remembering his laugh and the way he would tell a story

Never would he make her laugh again

Never would he walk her down the aisle at her wedding

Never would he be the man who hung the moon in her childhood ever again

She gently placed the photograph on the table and whispered,

“Happy birthday Dad.”

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