It is late summer

It pours and pours

The old man in shorts

When reading this about Trump

Snorts

‘I ran out of words

Seeing how he affords

Himself to show the dark dump

His inner self is

Hearing how he roares

His nonsense into the world

From the depth of the void

Of his brains, morally numb

And born annoyed.

In short,

How could this be

In sync with my Pink Floyd?’

But he reads their lyrics

And hears their chords

And you got him floored

Friend of life and beauty and foe of spoilers of life and beauty. Golden marriage. Grandfather. Pianist and micro poet. Dutch, European.

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