ramblings and things

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Whimsiccality

She had a face like a fish fryers basket
All stressed. and crumpled and lined
His  a bag of old worn spanner's
Battered scratched, misaligned
She jumped his place in the bar queue
That first  Boozy Saturday Night
Instead of taking the Hump he
Loved her at first sight
A pair of  unrepentant hippies
Neither of whom had ever bricked it
And that particular time each felt
They'd really gone and clicked it
They consummated their relationship
In the yard outside of the bar
And then once or twice more
in the back of his parked car.
They came down together
Sharing a laughter and a joke
Then he took out his baccy pouch
And rolled them both a toke.
They became an accepted item
Saw each other more and more
And through each other's eyes
It was only  beauty that they saw.
Two worn and battered people
Each offered a second chance
Which they both eagerly seized
As they progress through life's dance.


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Whimsiccality