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  • I said goodbye for the last time to the children in Derrylin today and waited for the bus from Dublin; whilst meditating on the constantly changing sky scape.

    As I walked home from the bus station in Enniskillen I caught sight of one of my favourite trees stripped of its glory, a twisted, anguished figure against the back drop of Loch Erne.

    Sometimes I feel like this tree,
    twisted in pain, but no one can see.
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