paltry rhymes

Twenty reasoned lines

a single score

Not a thought more

The pen doth demand

That is FAR too few I cry


For I know a score at least

Would be spent

On the look of an arm bent

Or the shadow under a hand

Nay two score at least


Then my pen would surely turn

Spilling prose

Half written odes

to the softly twisting auburn strand

like sparks settling to burn


And for a trailing breadth of time

Your wit would ensnare me

Dissecting your whimsy

Quips as numerous as sand

How could this alone I define


With but a paltry hundred rhymes


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s