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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Feb 2021
Judge Fred
If it's freezing cold.
The slow cooker's on,
set to auto
and I should know,
now
my hands smell of onion
though they're not finely chopped,
I finished the preparations
and finally stopped
for a break,
one more breath and I could be
on Masterchef,
so
dinner's in the offing
about six
I'll be scoffin' the lot.
Wednesday can be fun
if you're up
before the sun
which is better than being
up before the Beak.
Boyscout diaries #63
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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Terry Collett
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