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The Romantic
This officious darling, too old
for me, with steel-eyed glances;
offers me a hand and
a Fabergé egg.
The cold lights of the Malverns
in winter are anthills.
In my heart, I decline, and go
to prowl before the world's river.
Scooping up vanity in my arms
I deposit the screaming bundle
on steaming bank, smooth leaf
and unpick iron links.
Soon his money's out
of the question and I r...
Saturday 18th August 2018 2:25 pm
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