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  • My father Michael Buttaci passed away 25 years ago. Today is his birthday. I offer you this poem in honor and remembrance of
    a wonderful man.

    I saved my father in a book,
    wrote his marrow and his bones
    on blue-veined lines
    and delighted how he walked
    through the stanzas of my poems.

    I saved him in a book,
    traded sorrow for sweet songs
    sung in happier times
    and recited all his wisdom
    inside the pages of these poems.

    I lured my father to this book,
    enticed the fellow from his stone
    with magic rhymes
    inviting him to stay
    in the shelter of these lines.

    I saved him in a book
    in the comfort of these poems
    in the heartbeat of my verse
    in the cadence of these words
    in his dance across the pages
    where he lives forever ageless
    I saved my Papa in this book

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