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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Jan 2022
The chances are
It was Thursday
my beard was still growing
the dog on the corner was growling
it had just started snowing
and the wind was howling,
I was prowling through memories
in my old fashioned plimsolls,
finding diamonds in diaries I thought
were long lost.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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