OH, MAN….I hope she finds that pot-o-gold
she moves OK for one so old
From my “leprechaunish” bench
a gentle rain to slowly quench
soft thunder clapping a cappella
while staying dry ‘neath my umbrella.
Short legs support an impish grin
under a polka dotted whim
of rainbow’s end and colored arc
spanning the realms of light and dark,.
The thrill of finally catching me
rewarded...
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