Sundays around my small town are usually quiet and I can catch up on some reading and general administrative work. It being my first night back however, I was expecting to be cornered for some time by the other supervisor here, as he generally stays about 1 1/2 hours after his regular shift. He was not in, and therefore I was able to get out rather quickly, and good thing too, be cause it started off like gangbusters.
I decided to break away from classical Greek/Roman more well known poetry styles, and travel to the Emerald Isle. Being very proud of my Irish roots, I wondered what the style of Irish poets was like. It's actually pretty easy, with tonight's being an "Ae Freslighe". No rhyme pattern, just seven syllables per line, and the first word had to be repeated at the end of the poem as the last word.
Local Town Ae Freslighe
Counterpart was off tonight
He took the day and stayed home
I knew now what to do then
The night was free for myself
Quiet shattered by a call
Two men, one with a gun
Mere moments from the station
Both found, but there was no gun
Both men were known to us all
One sober and one was drunk
Happy that there was no gun
We sent them on their journeys
One bar was busy all night
Party and party and more
Oaken Coin had the people
Yet we had no calls there
When they closed is when they called
Hit and run in the back lot
Minor damage by unknown
car, who was seen but then left
Report in hand, we left there
I pulled on doors to stay up
Nothing unlocked, all secure
I went to check the train lots
Three young people in the north
Dropped off by cab waited there
Next train was in four hours
They were fine to stand out there
Last contact was with a cop
From a town too far away
for me to go visit there
We chatted, and then parted
For a Sunday it kept pace
And we stayed fairly active
This is what happens for me
And not for my counterpart
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