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Blind Date

a scarecrow screams

wood pigeons rise

they can't believe their beady eyes

 

across the fields

he stiffly strides

years of east winds in his sides

 

its love he lacks

he's getting old

he wants to come in from the cold

 

there was a cry

one of his own,

from miles away over walls of stone

 

what will she think?

is he her type?

imagines her framed ...

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