His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
I just found out that Mary Travers of Peter, Paul, and Mary died today. And I’m not taking it very well.
I’m not a Peter, Paul, and Mary fan, and before tonight, I wouldn’t have recognized her name. I still wouldn’t recognize the full names of Peter and Paul, and don’t even know if they’re alive or dead.
But when I was I young child, my father used to play his guitar and sing me to sleep, and when he sang Puff The Magic Dragon, I would cry and become inconsolable, but wouldn’t want him to stop. Now that I’m a father, I pray to whatever Gods who can still find it somewhere in their omniscience to forgive our wretched species for what they are that my own son never neglects painted wings and giant rings for other toys.
Thank you, Mary, for contributing to a very important part of my childhood, and may those same Gods shuttle you to someplace better than this one.
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