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They pack his future, tidy, into the truck.
Its bright paintwork
Gleaming green in the mid-day sun.
Resigned, he waits in the yard, taking stock.
The remnants of his life lie rusted and redundant
Their working days are done.


About Hawksword

Reluctant writer, word dabbler...tea maker, coffee drinker, rum imbiber, chocolate eater.

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