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McDaid's Folk Club

We carefully stepped through the seated crowd,
she smiled in surprised delight
and pulled you down
to whisper invitingly.

I watched the young guitarist finger-pick,
thought about her possessive
hand placed on
your willing arm
and felt sick.

Frances Macaulay Forde

Read poems about / on: sick, smile

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7/25/2008 12:56:02 PM. You Are Here: McDaid's Folk Club by Frances Macaulay Forde