The bazaar

Dreams that make your body pop, force the show to stop, let your jaw drop and breathe them in, my dreams are kept in a biscuit tin and hidden in the wardrobe. File that under miscellaneous or under the skin, subcutaneous, any information unsought, bought, is probably extraneous and that’s enough of us, It’s bedtime…

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Winter warmest

When it’s cold and she takes hold of my hand, transports me to a wonderland and I forget the rain the sleet, the snow and all that I know is, she is holding my hand…

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