“Twenty- four hours
Twenty-four days
Twenty-four April showers
Twenty-four ways to get soaking wet
But, April, with her downpours sweet,
Is almost gone
Soon she’ll wave goodbye, bid ‘Adieu!’ sound the retreat
And will leave us until
Another year comes calling.
It is the ‘cruelest’ month
By some accounts
Or the ‘curliest’ by mine
Who knows which is correct;
But, I think that mine is funkier
Be it less literary-minded
And only seen by a few
One of whom is you
Now, how on earth did you get into my poem?
No matter; you are actually very welcome
And have added some ‘Je n’ai sais quoi’ to it; whatever…
Whatever.
In fact, you are now the iCandy in my ‘Glocken’ spiel
Now, how does that make you feel?”
(Insert answer here)
Really? I thought that you would have been more erudite
In spite of your unpreparedness
For fame and fortune
(There will be little of either)
But, cudos is as cudos does
So a wise man recently said;
He was very humble, too
(And ‘no’ it wasn’t you)
As I was saying,
April awaits to absence itself again
With ‘Arrivederci!’ poised in readiness upon its pursed lips-
Which is a personification
If ever I saw one.
So prepare to say ‘Farewell!’
And ‘Until we meet again!’
Some showery day.
Graeme Sandford 
Metallophone, indeed….that is not quite a compliment. iHardly know what to say.