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I Am... Waldo
I am... Waldo.
The spec in the crowd
that no one notices
I blend like a chameleon
I don't want to be found.
Don't run your fingers
over the book of my life
you search me as if
I were your runaway wife.
Where am I now?
It won't matter.
Although,
I'm always in a room full of chatter
on my image
your finger will patter
my face will always
influence your laughter.
I was the original gingerbread man
you will find me but not catch me
with no other plan
I am on the move- please do not follow
But you will and for that,
I've become Waldo.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: