The Den Of The Dons Poem by George Alexander Ibeke

The Den Of The Dons



We are indeed in the den of dons.
Counting to go in
Counting to go out
Our license is to count
In order to be

In the den
I have to cry to laugh
And fast to feast
Home is sweet
But the den is sweeter
Like vitamin A

In the den
I am called doctor
But I am judge
Indeed I am a doctor

The dons are done
They count that we may count
They fast that we may feast
I awe at sight
I awe inside

The den is open to all
For if you are not there
You are not here
And you will be nowhere
Hell of a paradise

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