“My hairless, toothless baby snail has slid
to where the overflows of winter sway
which springtime sun has melted fast away.
She knows a dolphin friend who might have hid
at least my sweety said she did.
Remember where her little steps would stray,
was powered forward purely by dismay.
I rushed to find her lest My God forbid….”
Oh cease your mad desire for fickle praise!
Um, let’s just say that you um, ain’t no Yeats.
Is your attempt at rhyme a feeble phase?
Because annoying bleats are far from feats.
Have pity please on us and start a blaze
of fire wherein to fling offending sheets!