Dense thunk the dunce,
capped in a corner
of his own devise,
Pondering, shoulders slunk,
how came it so to be?
Had he not so lately charmed
the rowding crowd?
How now they snickered
behind his back.
But the corner
weren’t so bad.
The stool a little hard, yes,
But at least, the fools
were left behind.
And for the moment
he could dance free
in his dense dunce mind.
poetastrophy 