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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Sep 2022
Stares blankly ahead
Sinatra wanted it his way
and I want it my way
either way
it'll soon be Friday,
across the pond
they do it their way
and here
we do it our way,
it makes no difference
it'll soon be Friday.
She nudges me
thinks I'm a fruit machine
sometimes I dream that I am.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
69/Here and now
(69/Here and now)
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Weeping willow
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