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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Feb 2021
In the tower
Quasimodo
ringing bells in slo-mo
must be Sunday, so
I go back to bed.
Esmerelda
( is that the right way how I spelled her? )
always on the 'hurry-up'
brings me in a loving cup,
the bells continue to toll.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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