Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Improv

Once upon a time
On the clock's eightieth 14th chime.
There lived an old man of crime.
Who looked and smelled like lemon and lime.
In his presence he kept a mime
And a jar of dried up slime.
The old man maintained a happiness so sublime
One that resulted from his life filled with grime.
He did not the mountains want to climb
He did not wish to build a rhyme.
He did not even want to learn about Kime.
The man and his mime
Lived their life and time
They came they went and even cooked with thyme
And now I will be done with this silly game of rhyme.

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