since the grim reaper stole me mum
words my recourse to express
how fateful symbiosis
ma pop got snagged asper
one wonderful ambidextrous artistic woman
adroit nailing brad -
marsh a rose, the special gal grateful,
befriended my dad
many coe sure tokens of appreciation
doth figure me glad
how this poem ought to jump start
then motor along
the information superhighway,
cuz me iz the grown lad
of Boyce, whose re:comp pence,
pleasance, presence,
and importance - worth brings
each as mutual friend to the other,
whereat thine octogenarian widower papa
repurposed, regained, rebounded, et cetera,
and feeling quite at home in your pad
oh...and gratitude for allowing, and permitting
Matthew Scott harris tush hair his poetry,
which might immediately spur (an omg -
why didst aye enable vernacular speaking/
writing secular, and peculiar
sole son to rad
duck gull quaking scribe) fill
up the screen of your notebook or tab
let, or whatever the
name would be of electronic link
providing the access per bing linkedin
to whirled wide web,
and if we sustain stock key exchange of emails,
ye might be driven to drink
so much poison scorpion spiked ale,
then squinting eyes to resemble a chink
blocking any light to induce thee tub blink
as this fledgling poem strives to soar and alight
this barred bard will wonder if you didst delight
in re: ding this expressly feeble jesting bon jure lame
resulting take off tubby, sans a les miserables flight
never attaining maximum height.