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The Old Robe
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The Old Robe

Poem By Bill Grace

The forty year robe needs to be relined
An unexpected - unceremonius - gift of a mother's love
Today a three bill item not easily understood in youth
Mom bought it from Evon for the price of materials
(Evon's husband finding it of excessive warmth)
My mother knew well her sons cold blooded way
That could use a robe of triple warmth but could not stay
What was to proved destiny's sure migration South to warmer days
Beyond the warmth of nurturing nest and a mother's love
not even death could hold.

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