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A girl passing under a window
Ducking, to throw a stone.
Boys would throw pebbles
And this can’t be condoned.
A hook to every wing.
I should have stayed ashore,
Water was never my thing.
Across a smouldering sky.
Grey against the rainbow,
And an Icarus trying to fly.
On an empty chessboard.
Alice, somewhere in a pit
Asleep, awake. She snored.
As my poems often are,
And still they go about fated-
A line for every hour.