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On Henrietta Street

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The children howl, the house is hell
you close your eyes to cast that spell

Rising high above the endless squabbles 
to meet me down upon those sodden cobbles

The rain and fog are gently taunting
your white shirt billows, opaque and haunting

On Henrietta Street…

Two hundred stairs, do I descend
with full-beam smile to my treasured friend

These precious moments, we get to steal
An ancient fantasy finally made real

In the fiercest kiss, our tongues are twisted
fingers together, the curse of adulthood is lifted

On Henrietta Street…




◄ Post Diary Blues

Days That Have No Anchor ►


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Thu 7th Dec 2023 09:20

Thanks Greg. I've been trying to write a few shorter poems recently, rather than the usual essays. I'll keep trying!

Thanks Stephen, Holden, Manish and Tim for the likes.

Now with audio. 👍

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Greg Freeman

Wed 6th Dec 2023 23:32

A half-a-dozen rich, atmospheric couplets. Just what the doctor ordered

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