One could call me a bit Of a rhyme buff
And I have written heaps of rhyming stuff
I do not have any designs on literary fame
And praise and scorn to me seem much the same
Though few my verses do read or recite
I only write because I love to write
You never hear me say I am a poet
That I do leave to those worthy of note
The gift of loving Nature I enjoy
And I have loved her since I was a boy
Her I have to thank for moments of happiness
My love of her the one gift I possess
The birds sing in the park across the way
And the sunshine brings some gladness to my day.
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