A short poem I wrote about L during a thunderstorm.
Through the gentle snow, he did come.
His knowledge unaparalelled, the top, number one.
Unknown to the children, who giggle and stare.
That he is the greatest, the one oh so rare.
The letter that marks him, names him forever.
Will be with him, through worse and through better.
The children all hope to grow up just like him.
A daily contest, just to see who might win.
All the children who giggle, who study and play.
Await his appearance, for him to save the day.
So we study and worship, through Heaven and Hell.
For our hero, our savior, they man they call L.