Sweets
To Kimler and Nash-- this is their child
I think that I shall never eat
A poem as lovely as a treat.
Ideed, the paper often tastes
Like pencil shavings or stale paste.
Sweets always live up to their name,
Poems taste like books from which they came.
And books are not the biggest treat;
They're rather bland, and not too sweet
Unless they're syrup drenched, but then
You're liable to bite a pen
Some moron left between the pages--
And flossing after that takes ages.
Only fools make poems to eat,
But Willie Wonka makes the sweets.
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