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Ode to the Squirrel
My main squirrel, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you bounce, trot and chirp,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the creepy slurp.
Let me compare you to a contender?
You are more pleasant, blazing, and giant.
Vain winds shake the leafage of September,
And autumntime has a sleepy client.
How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your exciting style, toe, and legs.
Thinking of your weepy toe fills my days.
My hate for you is the amazing kegs.
Now I must away with a blighted heart,
Remember my great words whilst we're apart
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Some autistic people think that poetry is fun. The wise poet always said, "If you want to tell your poem right. You need to start from the beginning. I could say to those aspiring poets: " It's okay, sweetie. You are smart and courageous. Let the creativity cloud through your judgement. Keep writing and don't think what others will think." It's like William Shakespeare always said to us, "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together." I truly truly love that quote: "Out, out, brief candle!"