The dumbest jokes you would think,
Make her happiness fill to the brink.
Dumb songs, words and jokes,
Are still enough to make her choke.
She is creative, and smart,
She has a good taste of art.
To us, she is teaching,
But to her, it is a page to turn she is reaching.
She is just so nice,
No word in any of her books could suffice.
You can’t spell dreams,
without Dr. M
There once was a town,
Or well, a place
Where children danced and played games like people in another place.
They ran jumped and hide and laughed
Well for some who were there.
A glossy face
To cover disgrace
Sometimes even with events
Sometimes leaves a bigger dent
I don’t need it
And neither should you
Because even with it
You’ll see right through
Death is a purple cake,
It’s icing as smooth as a freshly painted wall,
Lucious as dreams
It’s taste as skyscrapers are tall
Death is a dog,
Fur like a cloud,
Comments
I love your poem; I can agree completely! Dr. M is the best ❤️
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