Will you remember me? I will stop and wait for you to pass. Perhaps you’ll take pity on me, as a fine man would pity any beggar.
And here you come, so near.
“Spare a coin for an old woman?” (Is my voice not familiar, are my eyes not like yours?)…but I am brushed aside like street filth. Smut underfoot.
“MOVE ASIDE, Old Mother Time” – a guardsman laughs, “Pray allow the King to continue his progress”.
And so passes my son.
cluestolife 