There once was a man from snow river,
He chose to live life as a giver,
Though forgotten by many,
He'd spend his last penny,
As the shirt off his back he'd deliver.
The very same guy it is written,
By love bug was so often bitten,
At face value he'd trust,
Never blinded by lust,
Big hearts would leave him so smitten.
A rare breed of soul he did carry,
Lies from another he found so scary,
Abundance of love,
He learned from above,
But never a soul-mate to marry.
Weekly he wrote down a letter,
As a person he strove to be better,
Through the highs and the lows,
His character grows,
Never hiding inside from the weather.
Inside his own self he found beauty,
Service to others he made his duty,
To many he'd scatter,
The little things that matter,
He'd spread the warm fuzzy cootie.
Comments about this poem (Limmerick Practice by Little King of Sorrows )
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