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by: Steven Ilchev, 2009
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On days so grey when clouds inspire
long-bearded men to fight fire with fire
a rain droplet from the wisdom sky
conveys to wordsmiths how to
let go and fly
How to utter words that move
their ladies so much so that
they squeal like newborn babies
because the sayings are so true
in their eyes, more genuine than
platitudes or chocolate-boxy lies
Go, wordsmiths stroll into this street,
a street unknown to plain mortals way
too neat and feel free to butter up slices
of verse before the cloudy days get worse
and worse.
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