In celebration of Shel, who left us 22 years ago today.
A long time ago when the earth was green,
a boy was born named Silverstein
who, as he grew into a man
discovered that he had a hand
for drawing and for writing
poems that could
stretch the way
you looked
at
t
h
i
n
g
s
.
He wrote for
hottie magazines
with playmates
you
..u
……n
……….f
…………..o
……………….l
…………..d
………e
….d
while
he hung out
with the folkies
in a village
we call
Greenwich
but all THAT—
is ancient history
and Shel would never
want for us to go
all biographical
when good old
a-b-c-tical
is far more fun.
And so,
remembering
the day fifteen years
ago, the 10th of May,
when death bells
knelled
for our sweet
Shel, here is
an ABC that tells
of you and me
and him
and possibly
a guy named Jim.
A
A is for ardent, adapt…
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