He stared around this room, unsure as to what to say, so much as think
He grabbed a Peroni, his most savoured beer, and decided to shrink
Would wait it out for the fire to catch his emptied belly once again
Only then did he come upon one such poem – about a famous writer and where their particular squat pen may just rest
Impressed, most definitely, albeit wholly aware he to be capable of far, far more
For t’was all about to pour

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