Anthony Di'anno (North Yorkshire)
We met at a bus stop,
Cobbled with cigarette butts.
Lamented the weather.
You were going home to watch television,
Having cleaned your beloved's headstone.
Desecrated by cheerful incontinant birds.
You were looking forward to Hyacinth Bucket.
We laughed at life's quirks,
Chuckled at snobbery.
You were smiling,
I looked in your eyes.
You looked at your feet.
I looked at mine.
We shuffled in silence.
Your bus came.
We exchanged goodbyes,
Went our seperate ways.
Borne a little bit further.
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