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She stands by the steps of the grey Cathedral,
Watching the pilgrimage bus depart,
Bound for a distant holy Shrine,
A fervent prayer in every heart.
The Cathedral stands at the centre of town,
Granite, marble, candle lit glow,
Stained glass windows staring down,
On the solitary figure standing below.
Her road is too long for the Pilgrimage bus,
Her prayers too errant and wild,
She turns towards home, her Holy Shrine,
And her Saint, her ailing child.
By Paddy Mulhern
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