Found the same new old,
Paws; at that same place,
Onstart of rain, breezy and cold
He was there, the last time, an ace.
An icy break took him away
The last time; now a similar sound,
Old imprints hadn’t even left the way,
The same old warmth to be found.
Woeful was his last life,
Walked around that boulevard, crisp
He’s here again to strife,
Is suffrage in his own wisp?
Brought joy, since he returned,
Took all; the dark and blue,
He’s same soul, it’s discerned,
Again, cheerful, old as new.
By: Medha
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