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They said
She was walking down the street with no name
She was unadorned but adored
By the children of her generation

Then they added
She was
In an old blue jeans
In a dingy white t-shirt
She got a book on her hand
And a mark on her wrist

And they heard her
Whistling
Mumbling
Or singing

She was young
Wild and pretty
She ain't got a daddy
Yet, she
Was the queen
With no fancy
We stand on the banks
Of the shallow water.
A consistent flow
Of unchanging speed,
Insipid hues
Rendering it colourless,
The cloying air
Of uniformity
Has us clawing
At our throats
Bringing useless
Tears to our eyes.
The rocks,
The curves,
The white water,
The interruptions,
are what make it sweet once more.
A fist clenches
Around my stomach
When I look into your eyes
And a new old stranger looks back.
The young old you never said goodbye.
And now I tell you I love you,
And now you will forget.
This one's about my poor mum who has alzheimers :(
Copyright ©Niamh Price
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