chin up in the lack of a morning wind
watching the seeds from a cottonwood
float in the air
buoyed by the stillness of heat

we traveled through time
where your hands would guide my shoulders
through my first golf swings

during the most difficult times
you were there to support me
pointing me forward

i would complain
(of course)
but truth be told
those moments
where I learned
and you taught
are the memories I hold onto
most feverishly

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