Monday, December 12, 2011

Moving On


Used to be that whenever I look at stuff he gave me, I fancied a part of him is still around.

I could hear his voice urging me on, telling me to do my best.

And because I wanted to be like him, mayhaps a bit better than him... I'd persevere.

I finally threw this out, in the course of packing for the move.

One less thing that he gave me. One less mark in my life.

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