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Old Friends

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Old Friends
There are holes in my sock
And a hole in my shoe
They have been round the block
And my toes all peek through.

I could buy some more
But I've got quite attached
They were worn to the funeral
When my wife was dispatched.

Only joking darling...

By Hobbo

A contemporary poet with a Yorkshire sense of humour

3 replies on “Old Friends”

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