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An emerald girl of an irish isle...
I met her watching memories

The screen beamed on
We talk anon, between scattered loads of laundry...

A funny thing,
     to set one’s life,
     to meet one watching memories

And drink the stars and charts the skies
To see if and withal her future lies...

While looking back... I smile and laugh
And wonder somewhat wearily...

If this keeps up...
I may be left to dress
In only well-worn memories