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My Eyes
I look in the mirror,
what do I see,
two blue grey eyes,
staring back at me.
I think of the sights,
that they have seen,
the oceans they have crossed,
places they have been.
Around the world a couple of times,
climbed up mountains,
even seen down a mine.
For sixty odd years,
they have served me well,
but now alas,
time on them is beginning to tell.
So a pair of specs, now I use,
to read the paper,
and to watch the news.
Tango.
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