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My mushy muse
I’m a dead muse walking, stuck in a queue
moving along slowly, spreading out too
A worm wriggles past, looking worse for wear
was caught in a hailstorm, guts everywhere
I'm a dead muse crawling, stuck fast in glue
caught up with the worm, he leaked so much goo
We're neck and neck, in the finishing straight
I patch up his wounds, then use him for bait
I'm a dead muse fishing, snagging old reeds
the worm's in awful shape, each segment bleeds
I let him off the hook, just to take a rest
he looks juicy, but in truth not the best
I'm a dead muse starving, no appetite
can't find a stanza never mind a bite
And that poor li’l wiggler, I let him go
into the hailstorm, it’s so me you know!
By
David Kavanagh
Copyright ©
David Kavanagh
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