Smokers corner

The time is come when the world

Is led by words and not deeds

It is sure to find

That it is not over bar

The cough and sneeze

Of the patriot warrior

Who leads from a friend

Who owns nothing more

Than a seaside retreat

In Wight.

Noone knows who is fender

And caster

As we sow the green fields

With home run disaster

It does not feel like a

Coming home

Just a way of revoking

The lost and the monument

Festering brash life

Called smokers



COPYRIGHT Bruce E Saunders 2020

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