Can you write a three-stanza poem about the joys of finding money in your pocket? It should have a consistent rhyme scheme of ABAB.
Wearing clothes new or old,
There's a magical thing that binds
Every person whose hands get cold
And what he, they, or she finds:

A fiver in yesterday's jeans,
A tenner in the side of a coat,
A twenty? You know what that means:
To Pop's for a rootbeer float!

Better than a lollipop,
Or finding a pack of spearmint.
And you can't deny the heart-drop
When all that you've found is some lint!

I hope you enjoy this poem!