Here are a few limericks as I wax philosophical.
The old year will pass with some sorrow
And the new year will most likely borrow
Much of the same.
It’s a calendar game,
Not a start or and end but tomorrow.
The limerick, with it’s own special day
Has decidedly come a long way.
It delivers a rhyme
That bounces in time
With a finish in clever word play.
My limericks are part to critique
And part to dispel the mystique
Of leadership folk
Whose antics I poke
‘Cause they’re not really all that unique.