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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Apr 24
Random #47
You cannot light a fire with a skinflint
hints at sadness but tries again.
What pain we endure until we find
that love is the cure and alcohol was
just a panacea.
I have lots to turn my hand to
but it seems like getting through
each day is hard enough,
I'd get the butler to do it
but he already did it
or was that in a film that I saw?
Wednesday and tomorrow looks likely.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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Ken Pepiton
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