Ode to a Piece of Lint #7

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Lint upon my jacket, How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. You are a fluffy gray matter That never gets in my way. You are forever silent, Not pushy or gay. You blow with the wind, But in the end, settle down. You can look forward Or bravely turn around. You are a little piece of matter, With nary a wink or a glint. Yes, you are my little fuzzy ball, My precious piece of lint.