A Poem Old ( a Villanelle )
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold
As rhythmic beauty pours from every line;
A magic gift with music to behold.
Sophisticated language ripe and bold
Applied with master crafted strokes sublime;
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold.
A reservoir of riches there we mold
Inside a tapestry spread over time;
A magic gift with music to behold.
As summer heat turns into winter cold,
These songbird troubadours sing out their rhyme;
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold.
Perfection flows from words these poets told
In metronomic splendor like a chime;
A magic gift with music to behold.
The modern poet cannot lift their load
While writing pablum far removed from prime;
A poem old has verses wrapped in gold,
A magic gift with music to behold.
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