A good while ago I wrote a rhyme
Without any particular aim
And since that time so many more
Rhyme became my writing game
I’d love to tell you why I do
Explain the purpose of my bidding
As if my motive was a master plan
And if I did, I would be kidding
Could they be a moment framed
Or trite imaginings with frills
Recollections to the stuff I've seen
Or when enthrallment overspills
Well if that’s true then why a rhyme
A sort of runaway quatrain
My stanza lone when couplet prone
The curse of verse, graffiti’s stain
But looking back I know these rhymes
Purged the inner me I find
In a land where I can’t understand
The shy inside my inner mind
No comments:
Post a Comment