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Sunday, January 17, 2016

Here is a poem by Florence Clark McClaren titled:
To An Old Man
I wish I had listened then when you began those long old stories
I was bored and ran outdoors to play; or older
Tactfully drew the talk away to light immediate things. . .
And all the while your generation lay behind
Your baffled eyes and wistful speech
Groping towards mine
And I can never reach it now
The things you did not say are buried with you,
And the bright thin line of contact broken
For I closed a door and let you go away,
Your stories all untold.
I wish I had listened more. . .

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