To Whom It May Concern

Crouching slowly over my bed
With a thousand memories in mind
And still running short of phlegmatic words
To capture them in rhyme.

Of long chats and sleepless nights
Mischievous pranks and marvelled heights
Fancy days and faded lights
Some memories flashing before my sight.

Of happydent and not much repent
Times we together spent
Pictures, movies, art and paint
Evil, genius, dalmations and saint.

And futile rules and wasted tools
Of turtles and flirts pretending cool
No less than kids out of school
Of a fancy party by the pool.

This is a dedication to the lot
Who keep reappearing in my thoughts
Half of what I do is jealousy
The other half is called poetry.


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