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Our Dad

would drink

whatever booze was in the house.

Then…he’d quote his own version of famous poems

and tell long drawn out jokes

more often than not forgetting or mixing punch lines.

But he still won us

with his Irish twinkling smile

that wink and grin that forced us

somehow to forgive him.

He was always seeking forgiveness

and praise…

or at least some warm acceptance.

He seemed a boarder in his body

and as a boarder

he felt lucky just to be there.

We were the ones who had to pay the rent.

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