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Sculling Two-Seater
There’s something mysterious;
I hope it’s not serious:
my muse will not write when I row.
She’s no river daughter;
it’s time that I taught her
that water and words can both flow.
Bereft of her musing,
the rhymes are confusing;
ideas just don’t spring to mind.
Who cares where she’s headed?
My abs are now shredded;
my lats and my quads well defined!
Alas, to entreat her:
a sculling two-seater -
that certainly might do the trick…
Composing while oaring
would never be boring,
with meters and verse coming quick!
Copyright ©
Jeff Kyser
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