Best Poem of L. E. Fignon

Methyl Love
Why must it be so impossible to dine,
When it costs three-hundred and forty nine,
To walk outside,
Both wet and dry.

With only shoes,
Gathered news,
That drags you feet over feet,
Tripping you four cluckings over the beef. . . .
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Plaintive Succession
Away it shifts through our time,
Magmatic surfaced one,
Reasonable for our early morning rhyme,
Sunset closets in the sky,

'How faireth now 'O' fiery sun,
arise this time of day',
'Loop upon me amaurotic one,
enjoy the game we played'. . . .
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