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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Nov 2021
That day.
Half asleep
some sitting down
some on their feet
but
still half asleep
and what a state
in between
getting to work
and being late
what
a sorry state.
We're all being dragged down
into the innards of London Town
where we'll be chewed up and spat out
(grist to the mill, if you will)
The underground is only the prelude
the main attraction starts at eight,
I've arrived at my destination
sadly
I cannot wait
another sorry state.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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