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Repeat
Some early mornings
On the street
Clouds hang low,
Gently misting
The boulevard trees
And workers walking,
Cycling to places
They don’t want to be,
But that’s how it is
Early mornings
On the street,
People fresh from
Warm beds and
Lovers’ arms,
Scurrying to work
To earn a dollar
On that treadmill
Of repeat, repeat,
Repeat.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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