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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 18:44:39 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 10477
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => sunday in albufeira
[time] => 2003-01-15 16:00:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Sunday In Albufeira
As we elderly and swaybacked sat at the south wall of a hotel enjoying sun and sea a rusty, u-boat surfaced and came to rest on the sandy beach. Her captain rolled up his trousers legs and waded ashore went to the bar where people said hallo thought that he was an actor making a war movie. He asked to borrow the phone but couldn’t reach the embassy he tried to call. A calendar on the wall said 2003. The captain looked back to his ship his crew had gathered on her deck squinting at the sun, they where so very white, had seaweed for hair and over them hung a phosphorous light. They didn’t belong here in fact they where 58 years late and had children older than themselves. Somehow they had been caught in a time warp and washed up here on the shores of peace, he had to go back out there to the deep ocean and help them find the year 1945. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 184 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Jan_Oskar_Hansen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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