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Friday 27 April 2018

Day Twenty-Seven


Above the trees
the lake looks like
it's floating in the sky
And dawn's delayed
until Plymouth awakes
I'm walking these
steep asphalt hills
with rivulets of rain
streaming through my
shoes am I talking to the
wrong side of my brain
Omnibuses Charabancs
and Horse drawn Trams
all been there before me
why should I complain
And as the Gas Lighter
snuffs the last lamp out
the Barbican will sleep
until the tall ship sails
Cracked concrete hills
rivulets of (acid) rain
Devon in the movies
on a day like this
Ambrosia it's not

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