Adelaide and Atticus - By Dan'l MclLhenny

Adelaide and Atticus 

Met they did . . . but no one knows how it came about 

It’s doubtful we may ever find a solution 

In our time, cause somethings remain pure mystery 

Whilst others end in rhyme 

Some say they both were wordsmiths 

Who put their quills to page 

Back when fancy printing was simply all the rage 

A well of India each had and the grandest sets quivers 

Calligraphy across page should you catch their point 

On paper more like linen - the likes we seldom ever see 

One of a kind, keep that in mind, as there were no duplicates 

Such fascinating topics to read away and read away again 

More than mesmerizing so . . . one’s tea would turn ceramic cold 

Lord - the biscuits could grow stale around the sunporch in the spring 

Or any other season once we learned about these writer’s flings 

Is there a single compendium left for any curious eyes to, ogle or peruse? 

Those grandiose works of art, authored and affixed by Adelaide and Atticus 

The Higginbotham’s in distant rustic Coventry 

Of course not, that’s absurd!

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