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You might have arrived like a whirlwind
And swept me along in your wake
Trashing the place with a wink of your eye
And giving the barman a shake.

You might have ensconced yourself softly
Behind a handy Wisteria
And peeped through two holes in the Telegraph
As you spied on my lilting criteria.

You might have engaged a sar’nt major
To weigh-up the joint in advance
And slip a pound coin in the jukebox
On the off-chance we might want to dance.

You might have stormed in through the window
In true SAS army style
And made safe your immediate surroundings
Before taking tea with a smile.

You might have flown in from Bahrain
On a slow-boat from China or Dyce
But you didn’t.
You just parked your car and came in through the door like everyone else.

(Photo by Colin Garrow)