Wednesday, October 21, 2009

My Beautiful Laundrette

Sliding back beneath the darkness of her eye's
Lurking and hiding in shadowed corners of disguise
The journey passes without any agnowledgement
Of passers-by or goings on along the street

Vacant and scrambling she brushes past the crowd
No eye contact or slowing down is allowed
No smile's, no glimpse's, no sideways glance
She walks as if seemingly struck by a trance

And then, alas, her wide eye's do a double take
My beautiful laundrette is upon her, it's coaxed her awake

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