I’ve got a little secret, on which I would like to let you in,
But first, please promise me you won’t think I’m full of mortal sin.
I’ve always had a slight dislike for poems that rhyme,
I scoff when I read them, saying their simplicity is a crime.
But now I must let you in on another little tidbit,
Something I’ve been scared to ever admit.
The dirty, nasty, naked truth about myself and poems that rhyme,
Is that I scoff only because I have yet to master their art in my lifetime.
I’m rhyme challenged perhaps, struggling with each word,
Coming up with combinations and phrases that are absurd.
One day, my pen and I hope to master the rhyming art,
But for now, I’ll just let free verse flow from my pen, mind, and heart.