Like This!

“She’s adding up my pages,
But paying me no wages,”
The poet storms and rages,
For all’s amiss.

“She’s flipped me back and over
From cover unto cover,
But I, I get no clover,
And have no bliss.

“And now in her library
On shelf I frown, not merry,
With medicals contrary
That will not kiss!

“Don’t move! I hear some humming.
It’s she, and she is coming!
She pulls me; yes, I’m something!
Loved lips, like this!

“Now kisses on my pages
Pay more than life-long wages!”
The poet’s dream engages
And naught’s amiss.

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