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Cold at the Pump
Cold at the pump, I rub my hands together,
But, for a moment, there’s nothing there,
And I search for the pockets of my coat,
My breath faces its very death and fades,
And somewhere in the air, I leave it there,
And notice my time is ticking away,
The cold gets in close and I feel the chill,
When I realize I’m getting mugged by it,
And shiver and shudder at the thought of it,
When all...
Sunday 15th February 2015 9:49 am
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