Annie-Nonymous

...for Annie Brittle A mystery, you, a child of our times, you write of love and loss with equal flair, flitting through rhythms and flirting with rhymes, even your blank verse is lighter than air. Tiptoeing lightly while sharing your muse, scattering adverbs to brighten the day, likely as not you will bring us good news, sprinkling nouns in your own special way. The moon will arise, the sun fall asleep, the world will keep spinning, as is her due, and you shall lie content in slumber deep, your burdens put away, your worries few. Awake refreshed with a smile on you face, as we delight in your lasting good grace.