The words at my disposal
May be simple, even trite;
Yet they suffice to satiate
My rhyming appetite.
I spice them up as best I can
And simmer them with care,
At times attempting recipes
Exotic, if I dare.
Though usually my degustations
Match my aptitude;
I’ve sampled other sustenance,
But rhyme’s my comfort food.
And when I dish it out, I hope
That someone takes a bite.
It may not be gourmet, but hey,
I think it tastes all right.
Categories:
degustations, on writing and words,
Form: Rhyme