Thursday, August 18, 2016


Ordinarily, the duke's nephew
Spends a brief while in his own dream
Before dressing warmly and going off
To inspect those of others. Once he's gone
His dream is thrown open to the public
And light refreshments are served.
I used to go, usually on nights
When I thought there'd be dancing.
The door behind the arras
Always led to a summer Wednesday
Which, given how I was back then,
Suited me to the ground.

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