The Month of May

You and me, we share a thing or two.

Call us plumb crazy,

But it’s more than what most do

In the month of May.

 

We’ve got an understanding,

Though it don’t say much like published books.

Some claim glory with fancy writing,

Me and you - we’ve got more than they.

 

Proper Do’s and Don’t’s won’t be spent,

In the short passages wrote by us

‘Cause we don’t write with flourish, but what we meant.

Even if others may desire a refurbishing.

 

“Speak proper”, they say,

I believe I do speak fine, so why “proper” it up?

“You should know more than the planting in May”:

If I know both already, don’t I know more than they?

 

Truth or no, I feel no need,

To change myself

Or to give them heed.

When they, all fancy, come through my door.

 

They don’t know me, nor what I know,

‘Cause they never have asked.

Therefore, I find no reason to sow,

The seeds of doubt they plant in my thoughts.

 

I’ve found we all share poetry;

However, mine and yours holds gold and jewels.

The treasure that isn’t symmetry.

‘Cause we know what they’ve never cared to.

 

Our’s is shared in between,

And even the smoothest lesson taught;

Couldn’t change the one that’s seen,

During the spring planting in the month of May.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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