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QuillOak

Free Verse · Poems About Dad

Driveway

by The QuillOak Editors

Every visit ends the same:

you in the driveway, hand raised,

getting smaller in the mirror

but somehow never gone.

Forty years you've stood there, Dad,

making sure we got away safe —

the same way you once ran behind the bike,

letting go and staying, both at once.

Original poem © QuillOak — free for personal use.

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