Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lovebirds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We used to call them 'the lovebirds': <br>you couldn't miss them - <br>they were like some miniature, but very human, sculpture; <br>in their sixties I'd say, <br>neither much over five foot, the same height; <br>he stolid, compact, focussed; cap; sometimes a pipe; <br>she, always nicely - quietly - dressed, <br>different hat each day, in careful rotation, <br>different dress each day in summer, likewise; <br>and they walked, arms so tightly linked<br>as if they were discovering each other's companionship<br>each step of the way<br>and had done for - what - forty years? <br>They walked like a couple<br>striding through the world together<br>even though their strides were small, like them.<br>I reckoned they were Polish, I don't know why.<br>I'd see them from the pub window in the morning<br>walking quite fast for arm-in-arm; <br>then in the afternoon, he'd go off alone<br>walking slightly faster but stolid with it, <br>I guessed to see his old army pals at the Polish Hearth<br>under the wide painting of the Pripet Marshes; <br>sometimes I'd see him returning, impassive as ever<br>later in the afternoon, as if from a meeting well carried out.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And you know how it is with people like that, <br>that you see and notice every day -<br>you don't know whether you really want to talk, make their acquaintance, <br>or not -<br>they're so complete, self-contained, <br>content<br>and been through a lot together, I'd guess.<br>Children? Sometimes you can guess, sometimes you can't. Dunno.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I missed them for a time.<br>One day, the local charity shop<br>had a window full of hats.<br>I recognised them, all so gaily displayed; <br>and felt somehow personally offended.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I missed him for a time.<br>Now I see him walking past in the afternoon, <br>unchanged in manner; <br>stolid, focussed.<br>The only difference <br>is that every day he puts a plastic bag of domestic rubbish<br>into the small street bin that's not meant for domestic.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=460264" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I don't know why that affects me so much.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a></strong></div>