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At the rumble of a badger's yawn At the crack of a sparrow's **** At the pang of his weakened bladder That's when he makes his start With the scrape of greying stubble With the shine of derby brogues With a perfect Windsor knot That's how my husband rolls At the slam of the panelled door At the echo of a muttered curse At the march of polished steps It's only then that I emerge
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Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 3:56 PM UTC
Morning routine
At the rumble of a badger's yawn At the crack of a sparrow's **** At the pang of his weakened bladder That's when he makes his start With the scrape of greying stubble With the shine of derby brogues With a perfect Windsor knot That's how my husband rolls At the slam of the panelled door At the echo of a muttered curse At the march of polished steps It's only then that I emerge
revisiting an old poem from 2019
stevejeff
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Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 3:56 PM UTC
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