On Listening to an old tape recording, from Christmas 1961, in June 2004.
All dead...all long since barely bones but one.
Muffled voices struggling through a hissing curtain; a shroud really,
...
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This reminds me of the poem I wrote for my dad during the time of his passing: 'An Elegy for Elston Palmer'. Yours is also a very fine piece of work. One never forgets one's father. Thank you for this. -LP