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Monday January 13th 2014.

I came across the sighting of my first gathering of Snowdrops this Morning in the bleak spotted sunshine, not quite fully opened, never the less they are above the leaf mould perhaps far to early, perhaps deceived by the mild winter much needed after the past three years of ice age winter, i have pulled my collar up against. My soul is at winters gate peering mumbling, i have had enough of multilayered clothes pulling down of bob-hats until i deem to be akin to Muslim ladies racing in a dragon race in the back waters of Hong Kong harbour….my soul is weary, the drawing down of the shutters creeks, i do not thankfully fall into that melancholy madness the combined harvester of the Forlorn Hope Regiment..winter used to bring in giant snowballs squid-bashers in pink knee high socks Goblins in frocks as my mind funked to the bottom of the blue lagoon where i would sit slumber and dribble over my stocking tops. Perhaps i am at the age when the ticking clock begins to look dim as i climb the big hands towards the year when i have walked on this planet for sixty summers..perhaps some corner of my mind churns, whispers, to, should my old transvestite self powder puff slip into retirement too….is not winters gate just that a gate... 

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bichoose
bichoose

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