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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Feb 2021
Touchwood 2
Saturday flies in like a witch on a broomstick, dark and broody, but
it's early and doesn't scare me, my reflection in the mirror can do that quite easily.
She still casts her spell on me
a shadowy figure
but I can see
her eyes.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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