Rhoda and Her Smile
One fine thing about Rhoda was her smile:
She had ways of taking it to a mile,
Its richness as unfading as ever;
So seraphic with her glass of Eva
One could not her link with widow,
Her smiles doing the good job of shadow…
Smiles with a skill of checking abrupt tears
And she trusted would not unveil new fears:
Really, Rhoda should be paying her smiles
A monthly sum for hundred marble tiles.
Who’d ever sense her man had hated her
And to him had meant needles of a fir?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
