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This was for my grandfather, who was a mail carrier for years... |
| What can be said about a father? A father so dear to his daughters, which he holds near. Carrying heavy bills, up rolling hills An unfading will, that will never stand still Carrying heavy mail bags through rain, sleet, and snow, mail bags that seem to grow, as the wind begins to blow. Every item of mail, carries another tale. A tale that will prevail, as long as he can deliver the mail. A man of true bravery, bravery to walk every road. Roads baked by the suns beams, that carried a dream. A dream for his daughters, that they had not yet seen. By Jefferson Davis |