The Little Old Wee

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There once was a little old wee
Who wanted to go out to sea.
He wanted to be free
And see his old manatee.

But his wife scolded him "No!"
She had bought tickets to a show.
She considered sea fare low
And hated the rocking to and fro.

Well, that was what the little old wee loved;
The rocking to and fro.
He used to be a sailor, you know
Until into his arms, his wife was shoved,
And into his hands, a cane was taken.
His memories became shaken
Or wrongly morphed
Or simply forgotten.

All his memories but those of his life at sea
And his old manatee.
The old wee had named it "Ha"
For all the times it had made him laugh.
The manatee would turn in the water and flip
Out of sheer happiness.
It had made him want to the same
Which made his crew want to do the same
Which made his ship do the same
And soon all were tumbling and flipping
Out of sheer happiness.

The little old wee got in his ship
And searched for his old manatee.
He looked day and night,
But never found it.

What he found,
Was his reflection in the salty water.
He saw himself
And witnessed his own look of disbelief.

Next, he looked for his old companion,
His pony.
He had named it "P",
For his pony had raced so fast,
That it deserved to have a short name.
He looked day and night,
But never found it.

What he found
Was his image in the stable mirror.
He saw himself
And smashed the mirror to shards
With his cane
In his rage.

The little old wee wept
And recalled his last search
For his dear old manatee.
He found it,
In bloody pieces
Being devoured by every fish in the sea.

So he looked for his old turtle
With a round shell
Which he had named "Pi".
The little old wee had once been
Told he knew numbers.
He looked day and night,
But never found it.

What he found
Was his shadowy silhouette
Of his hunched figure
On the forest floor.
He saw himself
And the little old wee sat down to die,
Yet he had nothing to kill himself with.

And the little old wee wept bitter tears
And recalled his last search
For his dear old pony.
He found it in the stable,
Moaning.
For it was old,
And movement caused its limbs
Much pain.

The little old wee decided
To look for his old rabbit.
He had not loved it
For it had regularly scratched and tore him
But he searched nevertheless.
He looked day and night.
And found it.

The rabbit no longer tore
At the little old wee.
What he found
Was the reflection of his face
In his rabbit's eyes.
He saw himself,
And it brought him some comfort.

The little old wee agonized
And recalled his last search,
For his dear old turtle.
He found it,
In the forest.
He called out to it,
And it turned to see him.
The little old wee limped
To retrieve his lost turtle,
But the closer he got to his turtle
The more it faded,
Until his turtle vanished
Leaving the little old wee alone.

So the little old wee searched for his son
Who he loved dearly.
He and his wife and agreed
To call their son "Ness".
He looked day and night,
And found him,
Just when he had given up hope,
Sitting at home, with the little old wee's wife.

The little old wee laughed
And embraced them both.
Then he wept
Tears of joy.
And he remembered.
He remembered everything.





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