The leaves flicker along with Sun;
‘Words up!’ as I hear someone say.
You shall a business found well stressed.
‘Will if you need to make you gay.’
Henceforth no meanings shall be guessed,
Chance you have been given now one;
Upon unearthing what lay earthed,
May sees you have now greatly won.
Not to be confused with May, the name,
Always May the month I’ll mean, friend.
Mean I might be and that you’ll know;
What you’ll think of me shall me tend.
You a man of your words are, Joe!
Think you must but fore you things say;
They will or else fox the men round…
‘Mean!’ they’ll yell, not meaning what they say.
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Categories: Acrostic Poetry