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Indoor Games near Newbury

In among the silver birches,

Winding ways of tarmac

And the signs to Bussock Bottom,

Tussock Wood and Windy Break.

Gabled lodges, tile-hung

Catch the lights of our

As we drive to Wendy’s party,

Lemon curd and Christmas

Rich the makes of motor

Past the pine plantation

Come up Hupmobile Delage.

Short the way our chauffeurs

Crunching over private gravel,

Each from out his warm garage.

O but Wendy, when the

Yielded to my indoor pumps.

There you stood, your gold hair streaming,

Handsome in the hall light

There you looked and there you led

Off into the game of Clumps.

Then the new Victrola playing;

And your funny uncle saying"Choose your partners for a foxtrot.

Dance until it's tea

Come on young 'uns, foot it feetly."Was it chance that paired us neatly?

I who loved you so completely.

You who pressed me closely to you,

Hard against your party frock."Meet me when you've finished eating."So we met and no one found us.

O that dark and furry cupboard,

While the rest played hide-and-seek.

Holding hands our two hearts beating.

In the bedroom silence round

Holding hands and hardly

Sudden footstep, thud and

Love that lay too deep for kissing."Where is Wendy?

Wendy's missing."Love so pure it had to end.

Love so strong that I was

When you gripped my fingers tight.

And hugging, whispered "I'm your friend."Goodbye Wendy.

Send the fairies,

Pinewood elf and larch tree gnome.

Spingle-spangled stars are

At the lush Lagonda

Down the winding ways of

To the leaded lights of home.

There among the silver birches,

All the bells of all the

Sounded in the bath-waste

Out into the frosty air.

Wendy speeded my undressing.

Wendy is the sheet's

Wendy bending gives a blessing.

Holds me as I drift to

Safe inside my slumber wear

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Sir John Betjeman

Sir John Betjeman CBE (/ˈbɛtʃəmən/; 28 August 1906 – 19 May 1984) was an English poet, writer, and broadcaster. He was Poet Laureate from 1972 u…

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