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Still No PicturesIt's been over five months, Dad I still haven't received pictures of you, I was promised, by your wife That I could have a few. She promised to send me ashes In a tiny, glass, necklace jar, It's the only way, I can be closer to you I'm still wondering where they are. I know I shouldn't bother her But, deep down, I have the right, Dad, I still think of you Morning, noon and every night. Copyright Cynthia Jones Nov.20/2007 I shouldn't have to have to keep calling my Dad's place, asking and begging to have pictures of him and ashes I was promised over five months ago. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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