Callow

The epicentre of your world no doubt
An audience a role the others play
For you are all you ever talk about
No interest in what people have to say
Suppose that every man can find a match
Your beauty might another heart enflame
Your head just needs to find someone to scratch
A prince who thinks that pretty trumps inane
The youth you have will carry you so far
And looks another few steps on the road
But all the days you spend ignoring frogs
Are days that you are turning into toad
Your contribution ceaselessly mundane
The fascination really quite arcane

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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