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 Faculty Of The Mind: By Michael Ssemakula

That was the time Ed and I sat to trade our
English; a language we longed to master
Better to fib in; we knew what to say,
But couldn't ably respect proper tenses

We missed to array the commas and exclamations
Misfired with pronouns and honored no adjectives
Nouns were not upheld for him nor either with me

Couldn't frame proper meaningful verbs in sentences
But, jumbo-jet V8-words that sent grins on our little faces
On each count; Yet we did not query on what was chancing
Around; because we were by ourselves in enjoyable lane

We lauded our ingenious expressions that could go on
And on... with many reconstructions which were
Interchanged to mean a series of wrongful irreversables

He then, sang me a forceful lullaby, ending as in...
Sunday at noon; the king, the Queen, the little princess...
Came to visit me, as I was not there, the party went away...
It sent me to sleep, I missed dinner and my bedtime prayers

In grammar it was obvious we were farcical
He was back to junior boarding prepatory school
And I began my crowning year in kindergarten...







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