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March 28, 2015


Time lingered til

old taxes paid;

from past mistakes,

slow progress made.


Some buried deep,

or written off;

most still provide,

a nervous cough!



a word they knew;

an empty pot,

where no weeds grew.


A single Court

there couldn’t be,

for this double dose

of humility.


And when re-called to

the central chamber,

no justice done;

days of hard labour,


A reward not seen,

the crime to be fitting,

but with hindsight, proved,

the perfect flitting,


when passed onto

a higher being,

who saw more sense,

than they were seeing.


And cleared the path

of winters debris;

easing the route,

towards tranquillity.


Though, at the time

of deep despair,

no sign was seen

of a life still there. 


The healing process,

ever slow,

but with trust and patience,

good times began to flow.


Yet, never forgotten,

or dismissed out of hand,

were desperate times of

foraging, off the land.


When dainty damascenes,

the pudding of the day,

and no lucky truffles found,

to ease the way.


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