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Jan 2016
it settles and seethes,
turns golden leaves brown
and dims all the lights in this
tuppenny town,
it smells of a ruin like fish
boiled too long or the fumes
from the sewers, strong,
putrefying as
if death in its turmoil
is itself slowly dying.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
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