what i remember of Papa....
a smoke pipe
a staff
a loud voice in the room
a conclusion
that is firm and
unswayed
a word that is given
a decent funeral
black and white pictures
of a masculine body
a wedding in the old
church
destroyed by the
1958 quake
a house razed by fire
in 1961
a black dog
a broken porcelain plate
a rusty gun
poem by Sebastian Soberania
Added by Poetry Lover
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