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i trusted him like i trusted you, implicitly.

then she doubted, never trust anyone, she said

she had been watcing reality

tv.

then insidiously doubt crept in, as water spread

this weather.

i may be pleased to say that she, maybe

proved wrong this time.

you rang me.

also pleased with the spellling.



sbm.
there it is in the background
as always, yet no one comes.

tea.
yes.

i do believe the spoons will have more depth now that i have discovered the key.

it takes a while of gnawing over and again,  laid out on white.

cloth that is given in charity.

shrouds the pain and indecisiveness, a clumsy word.

yes.

it is a rougher image, while all around are fighting.

shall i break the pattern this end, so

that some one may see that there is something else?

sbm.
old school hat.

panama.

no cigars, no canal.

velour in winter.

sbm.
more than that with promises

that faded into silence.


i woke this morning the same,

a taste of autumn,

mists and biblical sheep

resting.


a new grave here,

a new grave near,

while all is growing,

there.


a cloud  hangs in the valley

sbm.
she suggested that i write a novel,   when

i noted that she walked briskly to the post

box,                                       dressed suitably.

i do not copy                                   plagiarise

or write about my friends.

on consideration the issue i had with shampoo

may have started in my youth.        she said soap

was good enough for me. i found it sticky and

told.

they decided on the children’s home  as

if  it was true regarding my worth.

last week i bought a pleasant blend, decanted

into a special bottle

like  an elixir.

i also bought soap.

just now a helicopter flew low.

i saw the pilot.

sbm.
cooler now,we have butter lumps,

goes on the toast in bumps

tweaking the crust.



will we then get thinner,

not die of fats, get ill with

some thing else? it will not

spread.



i have my first new cooker

ever; i shall make bread.



eat with a slice of butter.



there is a fan.



#october.



sbm.
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