It started as a thought, as I sifted through my belongings and came across an article of clothing to be discarded in whatever way, but then I sat down and quickly compiled this little, silly, rhyme.
Tongue-in-cheek-against-closed-teeth.
'More for The Cull,'
'so much more',
I think-
as I chuck a black jacket,
all of its two buttons
displaced,
to the side; to be thrown away;
given to charity,
or some passerby
who, just as I fancy,
I seem to espy
and of what I have left
there isn't so much
that I'd rather not dislocate,
than soon again touch.
But I do care for my artworks
and then some: my books
and with a near remorseless pride,
I do treasure my looks.
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