is the day,
when poems are au fait –
well, that’s what they say;
I’m going to write one, okay?
It might not be the best,
better than all the rest,
will go to work barely half-dressed,
and a little stressed,
but it’s a poem for all that –
but, I think that you might have guessed.
The rhyme scheme is naff,
it’s one at which you’d laugh
if you were a serious poetry paragraph,
as it took me all of a minute and a half.
Don’t worry, it will be ending soon,
and, like the pop of a big balloon,
the noise it makes is similar to that of a rather large Racoon
howling at the cheesy Moon.