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jimmy tee
Poems
Apr 2013
the shovel of me soul
the air feels damp
echoes of thunder claps
bounce from the wooded hills
and roll through the vale
sockets of blue pierce
through the disrupted
ceiling of cloud
the jackdaw voices
his displeasure
at the summer we’ve been given
but they find annoyance
in most everything
Written by
jimmy tee
VT
(VT)
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