Lost
I wrote some beautiful verse last night
A rhyming loving poem sounding grand
Oh how the words did flow
Consisting of elegiac pentameter
With words of elegant form
But, where did it go
It was coming out so beautifully
I can’t for the life of me truly know
A poetic story does not have to rhyme
But in growing interest it must climb
It may be that the poem was so good
It climbed so high it go lost in the clouds
David Pennington
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