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On duty

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Poem submitted by Simon McKeown

The lonely Christmas walk,

Damp tarmac greeting me –

My only present.

So I dig deep and march,

With nothing you’d call yuletide cheer.

Get through the day with frosted smile,

Dragging-long Bank Holiday early shift.

Going downstairs, ‘Bye’ from

Curly-coiffured, tubby girl,

Her smile as open as a holly wreath.

Highlight of Christmas, low point yet to come.

She didn’t want to go home –

Offered a lift, plain to see what she really wanted,

But that wasn’t going to happen.

No-bus taxi, cheerless driver narked as me,

Back home to coffee, cake and gear,

And then a call from Mum –

She knows my night-time fear.

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