THE THINKER
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y wife's new pink slippershave gay pom-poms.There is not a spot or a stainon their satin toes or their sides.All night they lie togetherunder her bed's edge.Shivering I catch sight of themand smile, in the morning.Later I watch themdescending the stair,hurrying through the doorsand round the table,moving stifflywith a shake of their gay pom-poms!And I talk to themin my secret mindout of pure happiness.
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