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Grandpa's hands, much more rough than mine - his life was mapped out in the lines on his face. Grandpa's hands, much more rough than mine - Missouri's southern sky in his eyes. I wish I could have known him as a friend. I wish he could have taught me everything. (Cour de 'Alene summer's porched supper watching the sun fall.) You were so strong and I could only hope to be. The previous night's talk on record in the scrapbook in this mind of mine; a voice I heard a thousand times, I heard a thousand times too few. (Don't turn off the lights when you leave.)
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