Waiting for Godot.
Tell him, that I left.
Everlasting youth majestic,
Marching in time.
White boots and spats,
Cresting the hill.
A monumental moment.
Helmeted with reddish and blue hues and plumes.
All adornments shining on.
Up and down the hills,
In conducted cadence.
Procedure with precision.
Lady K leading the day.
March on! Roll-off! March on!
A labyrinth route,
But known as heart and home.
The crowd clapping in time,
Marching in place.
Reenacting her flourishes with faux beer bottle batons.
Bunkers, and Hills, and Churches.
Living history dancing with community.
Sunlight shining down,
Blinding for just a moment,
Then trailing off, losing shadows,
Until the parade is done.
Ghosts of past deeds following behind,
And curbside kids getting inspired to join in next year.
Remarking, that they too want to direct the band,
And shine majestic when cresting the top of the hill.
Like she did.
Like she loved doing.
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