Rachie155

With pursed lips she thought of words with rhyme The ticking time, hot tea, a short fun time. Thus Rachel wrote a poem to search a mate, Then replies start, some shy, some asked to date. Raj chanced upon her gauntlet poetry One sunny morn and wrote back something cheesy. The tocking clock, earl grey, the bright of day Brows focused on finger keyboard ballet. “You're pretty witty”, his first failed attempt, “Be my Munroe hoe?”; second so contempt. Feeble empty, would surely seal his doom Honest reflect, might lead his words to bloom:- My mind identifies lies as clear as day My mind though open battles not to judge others My mind sees positive amidst oceans of other's despair My mind seems complicated with it's simplicity of thought I like to wiggle around and masquerade it as dance I think about pulling monkey faces at naughty pensioners I bought a maiden hair fern plant and now worry if it is happy with me I once told a distraught 13 year old that I too wet the bed at his age, when I didn't My passion is the morning calm before the bustling day My passion is for art though I know it helps just a few My passion is planting seeds and waiting for miracles My passion is syntax, with rhythm and depth And those were the words which Raj wrote to share With feathers crossed on a wing and a prayer The rhyme escaped and the iambic lost Was it a worthy risk or would it cost?