Uncle Dude’s Robe

At the age of five a car
Hit him, left a lifelong scar
His hand eternally shook
Shoved inside a pocket nook
The agitation transferred that scar to each holey jean

Sixty some odd years later
Gone land of ventilator
Leap around the throne of God
Unhampered full freedom trod
No need to hide palsied hand, holy robe is pristine

Donnie Bryson


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