The mystery of the history within each man

A poem by Duane H.H. Lyon I knew my Grandfather, but only when he was elderly I wasn’t born yet when he was young and cleverly I never knew his adolescent visions nor dreams I do know the past is not always as it seems I heard once he had his pilot’s license and my dad played in a rock and roll band But neither ever talked about their youthful dreams, now lost somewhere in time and left beh...

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