An Ode to Fionn

December 14, 2011
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Black as the moonless night tinged with flecks of grey
Weeping eyes turned in, spirited and sad.
Curls like the breaking wave, plentiful like New York's cabs
Shaggy ears flop too and fro, like dancer's dresses in may.

Spirit that would snap the hold of any of life's chains
I wish that could duplicate the cheerful countenance he maintains.
My sadness and discomfort, he is their bane
His soul so pure and filled with good, he ought to be ordained.

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