Who sits here, and does he use
these elegant surroundings
to pen romantic poems
to some red-headed mistress
in a garret far away?
Might he be writing some
great philosophical treatise,
or simply paying household bills?
Surroundings such as these
invite us to assume
some worthy activity --
a Declaration of Independence?
Somehow I doubt
diapers were ever changed
upon this desk.
1 comment:
Ah, but what if they had been. The diapers. Changed. On this desk. Just imagine!
Lovely poem
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