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I thought I'd write bizarre today,

And tell of places far away, with castles,

Moats, portcullis gates, from which

No soul has yet escaped.


Turning planets, open doors, are they

Real or just some more, sleight of hand

Tricks of light, it's prestidigitation



The dark hides things we cannot see,

I wouldn't look if I were thee,

Behind the veil there lurks a joke,

Now you see it, now you don't.


I came upon a curious clock,

A lazy tick, a listless tock,

It’s purpose is to make time drag,

Stretch out the little time we have.


The world looks real, but who can prove,

It isn’t one long April fool?

In which we get to see the prize,

That can't be won at any price.


© Joseph G Dawson