Promenade

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Oh for the remembered clop, clop-clop
of the hard shoes fresh from the shop,
the parade of youth learning to be old that we thought would never stop.

Alas I grew bored and thinking life was long
I went away by myself for a while whistling a careless tune.
By the time I thought to return everyone had gone.

Oh how I miss the clop-clop, clop
that the young people made as they walked!

 

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