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The hill was steep upto the Ashton memorial

At 5 am  iI was wondering why I was walking up

The hill. I rarely stopped to think in those

Long-gone days, just what I did was what came

'Natural'. I hought of my  friends as permanent

Features in my life. Time would tell me that was

Not right. Those with money and charisma would

Be successful. The rest of us would struggle. I'd

Rather struggle but I was more than a bit unusual.

My only regret was one lovely Indian lady offered

To be my friend and I was too stoned or cowardly

To realise the sacrifice that she was making for me

It cost her the whole of her life. And I never thought

That I contributed towards her enduring disappointment 

I do now.

◄ Identity theft.

Winter Blue ►


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