Dawn Parade

On our morning commute

To where we ablute

We hobble, and shuffle, and creak

Some walk in pain, some with a cane

Some go again and again and again

Because their bladders are weak.

ARF

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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