She is in her thirties ten years past her physical prime
This talented poetess addicted to rhyme
Though she does not write for money or love of renown
There is no finer poet than her in the town.
A woman of beauty with shoulder length brown hair
And a cultural asset since her type are rare
The marvels of Nature in her poems she embrace
But in this age of materialism she does seem out of place.
In poetry's glorious era she would be seen as a great
But in the 21st century she is looked on as out of date
But still she keeps writing of birds, beasts and bees
And of sunshine and roses and blossoming trees.
She surely was born to be a queen of song
And her poems they are lovely they just sing along
So easy to listen to and easy to read
But sad to think she is one of a dying breed.
And since for the fruits of her talents she does not expect pay
Her type are so rare in the World of today
A woman of beauty and a laureate of rhyme
She would have been a great in poetry's glorious time
No comments:
Post a Comment