The Poet in his Dressing Gown

Where you to see
Here, in my dressing gown,
Would you find my mind
Or would you frown
And say,
“I never imagined him
That way?
He is not as slim
As he ought to be.
His feet are bare
But, his uncombed grey hair
Does, perhaps
That poem on mortality.
I don’t know about his morality.
There are no young women
Hanging from the chandelier,
And no other signs of sinning
That I can see.
How very drear
As I thought there would be!
But, oh gosh,
That dressing gown needs a wash!”.

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