My dearest squirrel,
I remember you
first scurrying
about at Marion
Square.
Who knew then how
contagious
was your energy;
how witty and
forthright,
your exclamations;
how wicked you
would
become with a
pickaxe?
who knew that
you embrace challenges
with an inspiring
fervor,
headlong, come what
may.
Who knew these
things
and did not fall involve with you?
and did not fall involve with you?
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