A worry of words

Bears not rewards

But for a poet such as he

Who can truly see

Not what is underneath

For that would be a relief

Just the world that's mild

His vision like a child's

To see only the obvious

Oh how 'tis less strenuous

He reads not between the lines

Yet we are still surprised by what he finds

We are so layered in innuendos

It cause far too many woes

So let us be free

Of the mysteries we see