Some little poems do have legs
just long enough to buy some eggs.
Though for a dozen not enough
So, Allan, do you give a stuff?
You know you'd shrivel like a flower
and sting like a box jellyfish
if God would suddenly turn sour
and took away your favourite dish.
I saw your finger's long extension
which I will, quite regardless, mention
you wear on each of your ten digits
small pencils shaped like happy midgets.
So, bleat no more about your hobby
I mean to meet you in the lobby
right after they bestow the prize
I'll say some words, both cool and wise.
Your life is poetry, not eggs
you must be there each time one begs
to be let out of your big head.
Without your poems you'd be dead.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-allan-whose-poems-would-buy/
