DOPEY
I'm just a dopey little poem.
Who thought me up, and why?
I do not have a truth to tell.
I do not have a lie.
I am the wind that bends no tree.
I am the passer-by.
I live when I am said out loud,
and when I'm not, I die.
I'm just a mouth with careless lips
that hum a jaunty tune.
The snoring ghost of midnight,
the squinting ghost of noon.
I am the shadow of the clock
beneath a shining moon.
I'm just a dopey little poem.
You found me out too soon.
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