It Made Sense at Four in the Morning

sewing machines

It made sense at four in the morning,
As these matters generally do.
Now the whole thing seems wrong, like a badly drawn song,
And I’m likely more confused than you.
The scansion is poor, and the meaning obscure,
And the lines are too long to cram in any more,
And there’s ‘amateur’ written right through to its core,
That’s the last time I try to write poems at four
In the morning.
It simply won’t do.

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