The Legendary Life of Bullet Bill

The blessed crowd retells his stories
But without the same grin and flare
The Marines born decades after him
Play trumpet taps for my grandfather
As his bride cries and leaves roses
For the man who made her laugh
It is rare to see my father cry
But my eyes are never my own
On grave days

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  1. My compliments to a most moving and eloquent poem from the daughter of a superb poet.

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