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Seconds
how we scrambled for seconds
treacle puddings creamy trifles,
tables bespattered with bread
pellets like bullets from rifles
we seemed always hungry then
the playground burned it away,
we dreaded chemistry, wanted
fried SPAM and chips each day
in here we don't eat so much
seconds not much in demand,
less boisterous too, for silence
usually gains the upper...
Saturday 27th March 2021 10:19 am
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