If life is what happens to our plans, then dance is what happens to our steps.
ideas sometimes when you wait they come to you.
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Monday, 8 November 2010

Poem 5


Wet drops down from ceiling on to commuters,
Making dark grey ovals on newspapers
Dripping down necks
And seeping into socks.
Grey silver sky
And spongy trees
Big puddles

I love England

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