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Glimpse

Your thought stayed in my head like smoke
lingering, wispering, a grey cats tale
lashing lazily
I burnt the dinner later on, thinking of you
And then the ceiling was black too
No amont of wiping or scrubbing got it all off
And the landlords calling round later so hope it's enough
My head's sore now and you are gone
Away on the Bus that you jumped on
Number 64A at about 3pm
If i wait there will I see you then.

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Comments


  • darling
    April 22
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    The concept of this poem,particularly the burning dinner,is furiously impressive.well done!