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He still fills a room:
Smiles and laughter,
Hugs and kisses,
Holding hands.
A flight jacket
And singular dare
Near a crescent bay
Started his journey
With six Presidents,
And countless hours
Of public service
Building a nation.
We drive slowly
Back to his room
And read a speech
He wrote years ago.
History does not
Hang on walls,
Dwell in books,
Or adorn displays.
It lives intently
In the worn frame
Of one who cares
And dared to lead.
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