fourteen years ago, <br />you let go <br />of my hand, <br />since then <br />I am told <br />that every night <br />in my sleep, <br />I strech out my palms <br />and ask for a squeeze. <br />In the morning my hands, <br />are always closed.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-father-let-go-of-son/
