Nineteen-fifty-three
For a man who likes numbers
It was the year that my brother
And a one time lover were born
Without fear today we take on Shrewsbury
A place where another lover and I
Used to go to the folk festival
One year we were there as stewards
Back to numbers, yesterday my friend
Mailed me a dozen love poems
As though his loving bottle had exploded
Was he always, all, all or nothing
