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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Jan 2024
Basic rate
Never mind the butter,
I can't believe it's not Friday.
slipping out of bed
trying to get my head together
looking out of the window,
**** weather
frost on the rooftops
snow on the ground
is this what I pay taxes for?
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
69/Here and now
(69/Here and now)
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