by William Blake
Father, father, where are you going
O do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,
The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew,
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.
missing my Dad...........think I'll take the poodle for a walk.......feeling sad....but not stuck in "the mire" anymore............
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