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( A praise poem - of sorts) 


I'll not forget the day we met

on the Piccadilly line

the memory lies grafted

embedded in my mind

I'd been working late at the office

commuting home alone

when you approached me with your mobile

and by that I don't mean phone


And I'd like to say you were beautiful

but in truth it was a shock

I never looked up f...

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Tags: humour, Praise poetry

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