A Voracious Reader
In a bright and rosy room, with an open poetry book,
the red-haired lady voraciously reads verses,
perhaps that are about love that softens her look;
doesn't she, with a heavenly smile, show praises?
With her back gently leaning against the loveliest orange tree,
her left hand holds a fragile orange blossom as in a painting,
this Victorian Age woman enters the exciting world of poetry...
is it Keats, Longfellow or Burns who keeps her voraciously reading?
If we could read her thoughts that flee to the nearest, brightest cloud,
we assume that they will reach in seconds the quietest place;
don't we notice that a glow of grace shines on her smooth face?
And although alone, every verse she reads can make that poet proud!
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