2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 27

For today’s prompt, write a falling apart poem. The poem could be about a crumbling house, tree losing its leaves, or a car that’s breaking down. Of course, people break down and fall apart all the time–in both large and small ways.


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Here’s my attempt at a Falling Apart poem:

“When People Ask”

He’s quick to say he’s doing fine,
because he doesn’t want to talk
about himself, especially when
it’s about how he feels, because

one question always leads to
another question, and the last
thing he wants to do is answer
questions about how he’s not

holding it together as well as
he’d like, because they always
have advice and tips and that’s
not helpful at all, because he

wants–no, he needs–nothing
more than a person to listen
without feedback or questions
when his world’s falling apart.


roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

He has his ups and downs like anyone and is happy to report that he’s currently on an up, though he often gets the winter blues eventually.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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72 thoughts on “2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 27

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    (a conversation with my dog)

    to be remembered
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    is this thing even on?

    he wants to be remembered
    with great love

    and admiration

    affection that in the end
    comforts, not vandalizes
    the brain pool that is left

    which are memories

    memories that makes one
    woof in their sleep,
    torsos tremble and twitch,
    legs retrace in the air
    old steps long forgotten.

    he wants to be remembered as
    being larger than life
    mighty but gentle
    small but fierce


    forever vigilant
    in having your back
    against the evil forces of
    volkswagens and tyranny

    ok, maybe not the vacuum cleaner
    not one of your finer moments

    he wants to be remembered as
    that once in a lifetime special pal
    who not only hung with you
    but was also glad to have experienced
    at your side, whatever life
    chose to dish at you

    good or bad

    whether it was sharing food
    or late night concerts to sister moon,
    the sound of rain outside foggy windows

    and warm stinky blankets

    long dusty road trips
    the sun warm on our backs,
    and yummy, greasy fries

    littering the floorboard

    littering the floorboard

    frisbees and dog parks
    and wet fur from blade running
    with other best friends

    oh yeah….Senorita Pepper

    tears and ice cream
    on the floor in the glow of
    old westinghouse

    also our friend

    vet wrap and vet bills
    and unexplained lumps
    slow downs and seizures
    and tubal feedings

    and shots, I hate shots

    here at your feet
    drifting, and loving,
    and stroking and


    falling apart



    the sound of your voice

    the sound of your voice


    (paw over hand)


    © 2017 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. PSC in CT


    Maybe you don’t recall
    but we’ve been here before.

    Separation. Fragmentation.
    Shattered, scattered,
    into distinct bits –
    shivers, splinters, slivers,

    The aftermath’s an ache –
    a break – bone deep
    and all too real
    laden with the hope
    that some fractures
    must (first) be fully broken
    in order to wholly

  3. shellkaysm

    Holiday Tripping (Diminishing verse)

    During the crazed holiday rush, we all are likely to fall
    off the merry wagon. Don’t allow your spirit to fal-
    ter in the spiraling process. Put that Fa
    back with your la, la, la’s & F
    those bah humbugs!

  4. Pat Walsh

    Falling Apart
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    although we had all known her for years
    no one was sure how Hannah would react

    her face paled at the sight of the big group
    and she knew right away that he was gone

    she wept quietly for a few moments
    dabbing at her eyes with a tissue
    and then she made her way to the
    second chair alongside the dining table

    the ones in charge offered condolences
    while we waited out in the hall saying nothing

    and by the time we got in to see her
    she was calm and even tried to smile

    which made it even worse to see the tears
    welling up in both the boy and the old man
    each so upset they had to leave the room
    before either of them could say a single word

  5. Nancy Posey


    The paper edges crumble
    as I slide the folded letters
    from their envelopes
    where they’ve waited,
    that perfect pencilled penmanship
    faded almost to the stationary’s
    yellowed hue.

    The postmarks reveal like gravestones
    their point on a time line
    that coincides with dates
    on backs of photographs,
    black and white
    disappearing into gray.

    Certainly a shame, this incomplete
    and evanescing record
    of their lives,
    but wouldn’t they laugh at us,
    our words and pictures
    never printed, only shared mid-air,
    stored in clouds
    somewhere in space.

  6. headintheclouds87

    Suffer in Silence

    They pull his self-esteem apart,
    Snatching each soggy scrap
    Like remains of a papier-mâché house,
    He lets them pick piece-by-piece
    Slowly as he simmers in silence,
    Allowing so many slurs and untruths
    To be spoken out against him,
    And so this crumbling of character continues
    Until the day then inevitably comes
    That all patience and pretence surely shatters.

  7. DMK

    falling apart not eloquintly
    by Dawn Kvernenes

    wind tossed emotional salad with a blue melancoly dressing
    with deaths pilled up like spinach leaves I can not see a hidden blessing
    falling apart and not together
    just look at my heart weather
    ground into the wound humility pepper black, red, white take your pick
    the weight a mill stone not the lighter brick
    can I find the pieces of the puzzle that is my life?
    so thick is the fog of depression you can not cut it with a knife.
    let alone find missing pieces of sanity
    I do not seem to be able to say it eloquintly
    help me Lord do not lose falling apart me
    point the way to a real plan you from eyes of eternity do see

  8. Shennon

    When Apart We Fall

    A lovely winter snowfall
    Coats the trees and soothes my mind
    Our first Christmas together
    I thought I’d never find

    A love to stir my passion
    Drive me crazy every day
    The need to be with someone
    Despite blatant power play

    Then you began to stall
    My heart can’t play hardball
    It’s me, the snow, and alcohol
    When apart we fall

    Now a bitter winter wind
    Chills the very heart in me
    Our first Christmas together
    Clearly not meant to be

    Your love now haunts my memory
    I doubt it was ever true
    I mourn a fictitious love
    But someday I’ll pull through

    When you began to stall
    My heart can’t play hardball
    It’s me, the snow, and alcohol
    When apart we fall

    Just me, the snow, and alcohol
    When apart we fall.


  9. Michelle Hed

    The Puzzle Never Finished

    I’m not really falling
    it’s more like
    falling pieces
    of a puzzle
    making a collage
    of my life
    with the borders
    the ordinary, every
    day life
    the events
    important to me…
    and the puzzle
    is a little hazy
    on the bottom
    but gets
    clearer as you go up
    to the unfinished
    where the pieces
    are still falling
    into place.

  10. bethwk

    Falling Apart
    by Beth Weaver-Kreider

    First: Everything begins to work in sync. From within the random chaos,
    a pattern emerges, a rhythm, a mutual response between working parts.
    Cooperation and tunefulness abound. Order prevails.

    Second: Before long, the sameness of the patterns and the rhythms
    begins to grate on the inner ear. A background whine hovers
    just within earshot. Orderliness begins to thump and thud.

    Third: Some of the ordered bits begin to stumble, miss a step,
    misfire. Still, the march plods on, and the bumbling is only a hiccup
    in the ordered scheme of things. Weariness sets in.

    Fourth: A counter-rhythm develops. Syncopation sets in. Suddenly,
    a wild dance whirls through the march. Chaos returns with a will.
    The order has been subverted, the structure shredded.

    Fifth: All sense of order has fallen apart. Randomness reigns.
    The beauty of the wild begins to appear–itself–as a sameness.
    Colors and sounds and sensations begin to sort themselves.

    Sixth: Everything begins to work in sync.

  11. grcran

    never give up

    post-falling apart we endure
    endeavor to find safe & sure
    hey you! you got heart!
    go make a new start
    or the rest of your life will be blur

    gpr crane

  12. Ber


    Separated like torn pages
    curved at the edges
    wilted by passing

    Burning eyes
    empty throats
    veins tighten
    pocket less coats

    Reflection of someone
    he used to know
    where does he go
    nobody knows

    Imprisoned in his cell
    walking through hell
    whispering in voices
    none would he recognise
    a broken down vessel
    a man in disguise

  13. De Jackson

    Lo(o)sing the Moon

    she’s crum
    -bling again, all waning
    stardust and darkside drowning,
    downing cloud cocktails like there’s

    no tomorrow.
    she’s losing her much
    -ness, the suchness that makes her
    whole, the hot mess that still somehow

    soothes you.
    she’s a whole sky of want
    -ing, taunting us to follow far and
    swim darkdeep, sleep tucked under this

    indigo wrap.
    she’ll trap us in her fading
    skin, begin to hold us, cracked and
    spilled and half-crazy in the way we shine.


  14. Connie Peters


    Many times, I’ve gone cross country
    in a car that was falling apart,
    with two little kids in the back seat
    and not much money in my pocket.
    (Just in case you wonder where
    my strong prayer life comes from.)

  15. lsteadly

    The Old House

    In the bronzed half light
    of late November dusk

    the centuries old colonial rests
    quietly between still pines

    and long abandoned gardens
    forgetting how it is falling apart-

    its sagging sills and rotting dormers
    relieved from the scalding brightness

    of summer’s glare and neighbor’s stare
    now sighs wood smoke from the brick

    chimney into the coming night
    soft light from the front windows spilling

    solace out past the shadows
    that wary amblers fear

  16. uvr

    Picking Up The Pieces

    Fragments glitter
    in a stray ray of light
    penetrating the dark
    Remains of a relationship
    scattered on the floor
    A dismantled jigsaw
    I was always good at those
    I start with the bits
    that have smooth edges
    isn’t that the best way to begin

    So many pieces
    each revives a memory –
    you walking away without a word
    me wondering what went wrong
    kids shattered
    at mum and dad breaking up
    friends shocked –
    we were the perfect family

    More pieces fit together –
    holidays filled with
    fun and laughter
    kids’ first day at schools –
    joy and tears
    Remembering the time
    they were born
    How happy we were

    Go further back –
    I love the ones
    of our wedding
    A glorious sunny day
    you looked so handsome
    I never felt more beautiful
    Before that, the time you proposed
    Roses, candlelight, music –
    you didn’t miss a single cliché
    I loved you all the more for it

    Almost done –
    just a couple more pieces
    of when we first met
    If I slot this in
    the jigsaw will be complete
    taking me back
    to where it all started

    I now see how it all fell apart

  17. Linda Rhinehart Neas


    The timbers hang ashamed at what is.
    The ridge pole sags like an old mare
    whose back has carried one too many loads.
    Windows break the silence
    allowing wind to whisper the halls.
    The front door drunk with neglect
    hangs crookedly on its hinges.

    Entering slowly, the Master Carpenter
    stands on the sill, pondering.
    Where others see decay and dereliction,
    he envisions the solid core
    from which a new life can framed.

  18. deringer1


    first my shiny green leaves fell off
    and I felt naked
    snow fell and I shivered
    in the cold and wind.

    but the snow melted and I felt the sun again
    soon the man who planted me
    came with shears and saw
    to cut off some of my branches

    I looked down one day
    and saw small green shoots
    they grew longer and
    I felt encouraged

    the man brought his children
    to see my new growth
    he told them to watch and one day
    I would wear a lovely white gown

    the sun came more often to
    warm my branches and
    encourage my tiny buds to open
    until I was covered in blooms

    the children came and marveled
    at my beauty as once again
    they climbed into my welcoming arms
    and I was renewed in the circle of life

  19. Connie Peters

    Falling Apart

    F ifty-somethig, falling apart
    A ware of the creaks and the groans
    L acking in energy, shuffling along
    L etting the pain out in moans
    I can’t see worth a
    N ickle. My ears are all waxy.
    G aining weight at great speed

    A nd I’m not feeling sexy.
    P lease lend me a hand
    A s I try to get up, and
    R emind me why
    T here’s no tea in my cup.

  20. Jane Shlensky

    High Speed Photography

    The photo album tells time’s tale:
    snapshots of life go sprinting by.
    Tic toc, he goes from babe to youth,
    then married middle-aged and old.

    Snapshots of life go sprinting by.
    He squints, a child with crooked smile,
    then lanky growth. He smiles and sighs.

    Tic toc, he goes from babe to youth,
    laughing and bright, at sports. Does he
    see signs of the man he will be?

    Then married, middle-aged, and old,
    the hair, the back, the eyes shift back
    where life in moments piles in drifts.

  21. Jane Shlensky

    Southern Barn

    The metal work is first to go,
    rusted and loosened every storm,
    until a thumping wind can blow
    away the roof that kept in warm.

    The door hangs halfway akimbo,
    the wall boards weather brittle gray,
    foundations fall, fat fungi grow
    until the whole barn starts to sway.

    Sharp sunlight bleaches wooden bones;
    windows and doors sprout kudzu vines;
    rusted aluminum alone
    curls up its lip at broken spines.

    “How beautiful,” she says. “It’s art!”
    We gaze at use that’s fallen apart.

  22. Anthony94


    Much to the cardinal’s delight,
    the Halloween pumpkin is beginning
    to fall apart. Sections imploding,
    eyes gone black, teeth snaggled.

    Plenty of smooth flat seeds still
    inside from a lazy man’s cleanout
    feed ladderback woodpeckers,
    shrieking jays, find the redbirds

    tightrope walking on the compost
    pile’s snowfenced rim until the fray
    unclutters. This way, nothing goes
    to waste except the scare.

  23. SarahLeaSales

    The Murderous Yogi

    Here lies Montgomery “Monty” Carlson,
    millionaire extraordinaire,
    and a whore’s worst nightmare;
    your friendly neighborhood serial killer,
    one community’s tall, white pillar;
    a carnal vegan,
    a yoga instructor,
    his body a great conductor
    for electricity—
    as evidenced through his death in the chair.
    He went out in a blaze of glory,
    turning his novel life
    into a short story.
    May he rest in pieces—
    just like his victims.

  24. Bushkill

    I break away in pieces as
    Memory fades with time’s passing.
    Who am I and what have I wrought?
    There is something to remembrance,
    But it’s significance is lost;
    Trapped in childhood visions and long lost
    Ambition. Perhaps I can re-
    Boot ash covered embers of long
    Lost dreams, scald cobwebs from defunct
    Thought, and reinitialize mind
    And soul and spirit to pave a
    Brighter picture for tomorrow
    Before dust reclaims this tortured

  25. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    : : : ||| : : :
    The Coliseum’s crumbled,
    Though largely it still stands;
    The Temple of Zeus has tumbled,

    It’s columns laid out, jumbled.
    Despite the work of human hands,
    The Coliseum’s crumbled,

    Not because someone bumbled;
    It’s the nature of these ancient lands.
    The Temple of Zeus has tumbled,

    Statues, as if fumbled
    Lay in weed-sown bands.
    The Coliseum’s crumbled

    Facade echoes like a mumbled
    Statement made in sands.
    The Temple of Zeus has tumbled.

    And so should we be humbled,
    Things fall apart, no matter how grand;
    The Coliseum’s crumbled;
    The Temple of Zeus has tumbled.

  26. ReathaThomasOakley

    Day 27

    Holding it together

    I need an old school clock,
    like I used to watch as the long
    hand moved from second to second
    and the shorter hand counted out
    minutes making up each hour.

    Did it tick? I can’t recall, perhaps the
    ticking was another clock I watched,
    waiting for the tiny figures, then the cookoo
    to signal another passing hour.

    As I grow older by seconds, minutes,
    hours, days, I need a real clock,
    not just green lighted numbers to watch
    in the night as I slowly fall apart.

  27. Terri Miller

    Pedals of Friendship

    Ring around the rosy
    Pocket full of roses
    Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

    Like the Pedals in the nursery rhyme
    Our friendship can fall to the ground
    if not conscious of our friendship.
    Remembering, not to get too busy with our lives.
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    Taking friendship for granted
    A pedal falls to the ground

    Helping a friend in need may prevent
    A pedal falling to the ground

    Quality time in friendship is very important
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    Find ways to give a friend
    in need a better quality of life
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    With today’s technology
    its only negligence if we don’t stay in touch
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    If we hinder the goals and dreams
    of our friends
    our lives become a meaningless existence
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    If our friendship is not a priority
    A pedal falls to the ground

    Friends may anger or upset us,
    but these characteristics need to be overlooked
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    Our expectations of our friends
    should not focus on the forgotten
    Thank you’s, birthdays or events
    Otherwise, a pedal falls to the ground

    If we always tend to our friendships
    we will flourish year round

    Copyright © TMC 2016

  28. Jolly2

    by John Yeo

    “Stress!” Shouted the Psychiatrist bluntly.
    “You mean you’re really seriously unwell,
    Living here in this wonderful country,
    Cozy In a comfortable hotel.
    Can you be suffering emotionally
    When you have everything you really need?
    You live in the lap of pure luxury
    Self indulgence bordering on plain greed.

    You say you are bothered by some bad dreams,
    That intrude on your mental wellbeing .
    Some of us have to work hard and it seems
    Your state of mind is beyond bad dreaming.
    I have three ex-wives with kids to support.
    My dreams are a nasty reality:
    Reality’s a dream that can’t be bought
    I am suffering emotionally.

    I get drunk every night to ease the pain
    Of my personal unhealthy casework,
    Then I get up early to work again
    My mind is making my life go berserk.
    I soak up suffering without complaint,
    My workload never ever decreases;
    I’m sorry my dear you are feeling faint
    And your soft life is falling to pieces.”

    Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

  29. taylor graham


    It’s raining. November makes my arm ache.
    I’m getting older, falling apart. But miles away
    from here, kids are playing a game of Gold
    Rush. They’re gathered in an old schoolhouse,
    drawing luck from a bag. Already
    they’ve learned names of exotic places I visit
    all the time: Hang Town, Gold Hill.
    Each child has a poke of gold-painted pebbles;
    a poke that diminishes by windfall or misfortune,
    things that could happen to a miner:
    finding a gold nugget while sweeping the saloon
    floor, or eating a bad piece of meat and
    getting sick. Or having your arm wear out,
    I might add. The kids are having a blast.
    After the pebble-fortune game
    they get to hike up the eco-center trail,
    along the creek, and pan for gold.
    This morning, I get to walk outside – yes,
    in the rain – and follow my dog over the same
    hills where forty-niners found their misfortunes
    and windfalls. How lucky can I get?

  30. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
    I can’t have sugar in my coffee,
    I can’t have key lime pie,
    I’ve gotta make due with Diet Coke,
    And I don’t like the reason why.

    I can’t have any red meat,
    And I can’t have anything fried;
    I’ve gotta eat only whole wheat,
    And I don’t like the reason why.

    ‘Cause, ever since I turned forty,
    And I realized I wasn’t so smart,
    The more I try, the less I can keep,
    Things from fallin’ apart.

    I can’t go fishing’ without sunscreen,
    And I can’t stay out late Friday night,
    I’ve gotta be in before half-past ten,
    And I don’t like the reason why.

    I can’t drink the way I used to,
    And I can’t go out and get high;
    I’ve gotta be the designated driver,
    And I don’t like the reason why.

    Ever since I turned forty,
    And I realized I wasn’t so smart,
    The more I try, the less I can keep,
    Things from fallin’ apart.

    My glasses keep gettin’ stronger,
    My back hurts a little bit longer,
    And since you’ve been gone, that pain in my heart,
    Reminds me how things’re,
    Fallin’ apart.

    And ever since I turned forty,
    And I realized I wasn’t so smart,
    The more I try, the less I can keep,
    Things from fallin’ apart.
    The more I try, the less I can keep,
    Things from fallin’ apart.

  31. JanetRuth

    Beating the Odds

    Let’s fall apart together
    The weather is November gray
    And none of us can tether
    The hand that will have its way

    Time is a master of moments
    Author of fugitive art
    Let’s beat its odd estrangements
    And fall apart, heart to heart

    We have two choices, darling
    Musing on lost yesterdays
    Or dancing with arms open
    To the music that still plays

    © Janet Martin

  32. Pwriter10

    THE SKY IS FALLING by DeAndre Oolong

    Gravity is broken, they say.
    So beware the atmosphere.
    Beware the rain that feels
    like stinging rocks.
    If you see a meteor
    hurtling toward your house,
    there’s not much can do
    (but you could try).

    The moon is closer than it’s ever been,
    and it’s tides have risen in turn.
    No one knew
    that a falling sky would
    lead to seas that swallow us.

    At least we have the soul-strong sun,
    locked in place, providing torchlight.
    But all that means is that we can
    see the crumbling of our
    galaxy of lies.
    We’re witnesses (to our own demise).

    Someday I’ll tell my grandkids
    how melodramatic we used to be.

  33. Jezzie


    How long before new things fall apart?
    Apart from a few things I’m going to start
    from scratch again in my new dwelling.
    Dwelling near the sea, with seagulls yelling.

    Splattered and battered as it rains cats and dogs,
    dogs larking about, barking at cats and frogs,
    howling gales blowing snowdrifts now and then.
    Then how soon before I need a new house again?

    How long before new relationships fall apart?
    Apart from my kids and dog no-one has my heart.
    Twenty eight years ago this house was new.
    I knew no-one here then, it’s very true.

    I still don’t. My new neighbours all moved away.
    Away from them I never wanted to stay
    but things change, our lives have moved on.
    On the other hand, I’m still sorry they’ve gone.

    How long before my old body will fall apart?
    Apart from a few aches I still feel quite smart.
    My friends are leaving this world one by one.
    One day before long I will also be gone.

    When I moved to the house I’m now in
    in nineteen eighty eight I was quite thin
    but I’ve since put on weight. I now eat less.
    Lesson learned. I’ll lose weight soon I guess.

    How long before the world falls apart?
    A part of me thinks it needs a new start.
    Like me, it needs to cast old ideas out.
    “Out with the old!” we need loudly to shout.

    Let the sinning find a new beginning
    beginning tomorrow and soon we’ll be winning.
    Perhaps that’s more than we all can hope.
    Hope otherwise that we all can cope.

  34. Janet Rice Carnahan


    Starting with our heart
    A delicate piece of art
    The famous horse before the cart
    Everything can break apart

    Just as things begin to form
    All around us fits a norm
    Calmest day before a storm
    Everything will fall apart

    The most careful steps we take
    Tilting a layered wedding cake
    Precious earth begins to shake
    Everything does fall apart

    A beautifully laid out city
    Struck by war, such a pity
    A comic not the least bit witty
    All things might just fall apart

    A family scatters to the wind
    Looks like cohesiveness will end
    Relationships gone around the bend
    Falling apart might just happen

    A set of fine china hits the stair
    Shatters it once it clears the air
    All we can do is stand and stare
    Everything just fell apart

    The only thing left to do
    If this happens to me and you
    Start again and make it new
    Rebuild, regenerate and renew

    What falls apart will need fixing
    Careful measures and perfect mixing
    Or anything we don’t feel like nixing
    As we review, renew and make it new

    The whole process demands we’re bold
    Like chaos and order so I’m told
    Continual changes never grow old
    Improving what is hot until it grows cold

    Transformation is what will occur
    Falling apart is part of it for sure
    How else can we stand up and endure
    Things coming apart to heal is the cure

    (The inconsistencies in this poem were meant to show how things, like poems, too, can fall apart and then come back towards cohesiveness . . . well, you get my point!)

  35. PowerUnit

    We wondered who’d by our last two cars, if anybody
    seeing value in 2000 and 2002,
    well it takes a real fixer-upper.
    It’s not like we abused them, but you know
    it happens to the best;
    it happens to us all.

    My old, gold Targa fountain pen’s imbedded nib
    leaks in my pressing fingers,
    an O-ring with its mouth open, its neck
    a rosinless seal. Can’t keep it together.

    My Green Bay Packers were supposed to be contenders, again
    when a major leg got all bent out of shape,
    a key cog is suspended in midair,
    and the personnel, you know, changes.

    Change, a euphemism for getting old, getting Geritolled.
    There’s not much to do about it. Regular maintenance.
    Change the oil. Run diagnostics.
    It’s all going to go, in the end
    Anchebe knew the deal. Things [do] Fall Apart.

    ***Bizarre choice today Robert. I literally began reading Chinuea Anchebe’s ‘Things Fall Apart’ five hours ago. 😉

    1. BDP

      Getting Geritolled! Funny. A product to help patch us when “the center cannot hold.” And, oh, the Green Bay Packers–yes, I feel your pain, I’m also a fan. Amusing poem the whole way through!


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