The old ones sit
on fold-up chairs
Wearing blankets
on their knees...
Observing the selfish fools
Jogging ancient memories
with their reveries,
twirling maypoles and things.
An invitation to marry
Was given in the April
And replied to in the June.
Oh well.
Stand up from
this fed-up chair, old one.
Then smile,
And face your January.
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