The Charmin Chronicles: Within This Ceramic Palace

Pen in hand, I gaze upon the virgin, pristine Charmin scroll,

that awaits in unwritten silence upon this porcelain throne,

this gleaming, timeless sculpture of pure white China bone,

so here I sit so all alone, one meager, humble poet's soul.


Furrowed brow, suffering mental constipation

This is the trappings of the monomaniacs

Oh, What I would do for some mental Ex-lax

to loosen up cognitive operation!


Within this ceramic palace, seafoam green and oyster white,

my muse, the fragrance of Powder Room Glade,

and these echoing thoughts, I pray not fade,

for my soul is raptured in this mirrored light.

The End

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