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LATE BLOOMS: Motorcade


From a low porch I scan
our rather narrow front yard
and watch the concreted street
just a few steps beyond our gate.

Cars of all shapes and sizes whiz by,
while in the yard flits a lone colorful butterfly.
Memories countless flash through my mind,
while my heart holds on to one elusive dream.

A noisy motorcade passes
with tarps and streamers, blaring promises
that long ago and many times we’ve heard
and until now wait to be fulfilled…

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