Neva Wallace


You propose that we should write about the number TEN?
And use all the wittiness we have as we compose?
I tried that once and find I must now again
write more, perhaps to break a tie, do you suppose?
Now TEN, TEN, TEN again bounces through my weary brain.
This number keeps repeating – on the calendar it’s a date.
But it doesn’t matter anyway, I think I’ve gone insane
at the thought of writing something that might even remunerate.
Oh, TEN, thou TEN, sweet TEN, my hopes do rise.
I’ll send this in with aspirations to win the prize.

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