Sean Robert Hart
A Puzzle Sown
Open and shut, open and shut goes the door,
its squeaky hinges make the ear sore;
And when you stop it, a tantrum's thrown,
then you ask, 'What here has been sown?
How can I stay in the glove of the sane?
while my shadow himself is obsessed with the rain;
He must always hear the sound of the train,
but shrills when less intensities cause him pain.
\Many wonder the cause of this puzzle,