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Poetry Magnum Opus

Hessle road


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Fishing industry dies, the community mirror went blind,

historians tried to pour the Humber into a cup and

claimed the winds bled but were unable to find a single

drop of blood. My grandfather was a fisherman who

claimed his leg was made of wood and told me to wait

for the echo from heaven's stair where he is holding the

mirror after giving it sight with story's of Hessle road, on

a clear a night sight I swear I can see the mirrors many tears.

 

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