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these winter days

when the sun
hating the cold dark mornings
hits snooze on the alarm three times
crawls out of bed grumbling
about stiffness in the joints
damp, a bunged-up nose,
is a bear with a sore head
till the coffee kicks in
last of the milk and the motivation

queues at the bus-stop in the rain
with the other heavenly bodies
doesn’t get a seat – again –
Mercury chattering on her mobile
about w...

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seasonswintersun

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