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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Dec 2015
Dandelions
The mistress of time
her hands are mine, but
the lady tells lies
see
how she flies and
devours the hours in my day.
One way or another she'll
see I'm her brother and
leave me to wind and wend
through her tendrils until
upon reaching the end
I end.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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