Nigel was right of course
straight out of the other side 
walking across the zebra lane
on that promenade 
the treachery of Facebook.

The Green Man is sleeping until winter 
but spring rain will awaken him next year,
haunted by the repetition

it was a day like this 
when she was a tree 
and he wore her like a cloak
When she was smoke 
clinging to a death bed, 
no wasted anger arra...

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