Rimbaud has nothing on me
For all his scriptures and beautiful prose
He may say that you have the beauty of a rose
But I make you giggle and let you steal my nose

No, I’m neither a Lennon or McCartney
I can’t sing or play guitar
I’ll never write you a ‘Yesterday’ or ‘Love Me do’
Just make you boiled eggs and find your shoes.

I will never be a Picasso
What does he possess that I don’t
He might paint you in a thousand shades of blue
I’ll help you with the toggles on your coat

I’m not as wealthy as I’d like
Though your mum says I spoil you anyway
I’ll be there when you wake up, if you’re scared of the dark
Although if it’s four am, I refuse to take you to the park

I’ve written this poem, not that you need it
Another thing I’ll do is teach you to read it.

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