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Friday 25 October 2013

Cut It

A riot of birdsong
Yesterdays stroll on the lawns
Was a resounding romance, rebounding

We all bat off each other a bit, it’s true
She was always fearful, in danger
She might fall out of our orbit, stumble 
From her psychological equilibrium

The beauties are not always the bravest
Yet in the lost wonder of emigres flight
Her plumed feathers a vision sublime

She stayed out all night, it’s rather
Unusual for this declared avoider
Of anxiety, caused by the tormentor
That is next door’s vengeful minx


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
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