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Wimbledon / 3 July 2015

I could plot my life
Opportunities lost
By Wimbledon

Indolence won
On a hospital tea room ragged seat
I could have been with a Friday crowd
Having fun being loud
But the Men’s Semis
Lured me on the TV
In 03

Grateful for the difficult sec
Who was mightily rude to me as a temp
The agency said ‘go home’
Rather than money lost
I relished the chance to see
The men’s quarter finals
In 93

In between I lost interest
Tennis bereft
Of character
And I harped back to little me

Every summer
We chalked the lines
Whining the toss
Positioned us at the bottom!
The top of a steep street
We could see the Pennines
And batted the balls
A bugger if you missed and had the long run down
But being out was better than in
Escaping the call of ‘him’
Waking in hungover summer boozing
Beckoning you from the sofa
To satisfy his oozing
So you fought to return