Spectacles
Spectacles
A blurry word is a pest,
a missed meaning a chore.
But lost specks are best,
when never found ever more.
And not spotted by my darling
perched up high in my mane
after an unrightously load roar
and a heaping pile of disdain.
Specs not found by my love
sitting atop my fuzzy head
is a gift from the heights above
That I pray for instead.
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