Campaign posters arrive In autumn

Campaign posters arrive In autumn
As sure as leaves upon the lawn
I cross my fingers when I view them
That in winter, they’ll be gone

The leaves will blow away
Or get crushed to tiny bits
But if campaigners remove no signs
I’m likely to throw a fit

For nothing is so dreary
Than dog-eared campaign boasts
For those who do remove them
We’ll raise our glasses in toast
9/24/99

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