The gentle rain fell as I walked towards
The office alongside the old canal
In my earphones I heard the beats and words
Livening up the walk, so I walked tall
The day's work done, I retraced the same trail
And before long, out once more, Manchester
Calling, Tales of Whatever, not tall tales
But true stories embellished as they were
By the telling to a room of hearers
Nancy turned up, and second up, Dermot's
Description of kayaking in North Wales
And swimming off the Isle of Arran where
Some poets meet annually, though I would
Not really fancy it - the sea's too cold
Wed 12 June
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