The piece i'm improv. is Yuself Komunyakaa's My Father's Love Letters.
She resided and recited
Signatures of the touches she lost,
While gaining experiences from that Friday.
Receptive to being talked at like a child
By overseers shadowed in blue and black adorned with their toys.
For the marathon she ran , she paid her price in more than just papers.
Her dear Alex, not comprehending, staring at the empty bottles.
Coronas,Old Mills, and Renat, begging to his God that no one saw
This scene on 224 Southmill lane, so far away from a place called home.
Wishing that his memories could be undone.
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