I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
Though i am one who has penned a whole pile of rhyme
Since my twenty seventh year in seventy three in my physical prime
I am not one to hide behind a mask of false humility
If that was the case i would not be fooling anybody but me
I am one of those who has penned rhymes by the score
I just write for enjoyment and little else more
In far away fields i often daydreamed of fame
That mine would become a great literary name
But daydreams for so few do ever come true
And from life i receive what is only my due
My mental and physical best days long gone
But true to my calling in life i rhyme on
To say i will quit rhyming would be telling a lie
I hope to be doing it till the day i do die
For many years i have been a rhyming buff
I am one of those who has penned piles of stuff
My best years in life some four decades ago
And time everyone's master has become my foe.
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