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A Small Bloke called Ted

I Watched her walk past for the third time.  Propreoception not an issue. Her left hip danced forward to the tune of the swing in her right leg. She had long, beautiful chestnut coloured hair.  Of course she did.  She was the girl from Ipenema.

Except we were in a field, in Henley, at a yoga festival.

Each time she passed I smiled at her and she smiled back.

Finally, I called out to her.  I wasn't sure if she would be friendly, but I took the risk. She was friendly.  I asked her about her walk.  She said, brown...


Out in Rage

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