My dear writer of poems, I fear,
Is catching up to me.
Sometime, suddenly, I will hear
Her lovely “Hee-hee-hee!”
Then I will laugh, “Ha-ha, ho ho,
I’ve got one more, you’re a little slow,
And if you try to pass me by
I’ll toss new poems into the sky;
The wind will waft them round your hair,
They’ll hug and kiss you everywhere!
And if to copy you do try
They’ll make a blindfold round each eye
And tell you, ‘Guess which poem am I!’
If you say ‘Love’ and ‘I Adore,’
They’ll let you write a whole lot more.
If you say ‘All, My Whole Life Through,’
They’ll stand real still and wait for you.
Then if you catch me, I will sing,
‘My love, you are my everything!’
And then I’ll take your hand sublime,
We’ll kiss together rhyme for rhyme,
And all my thoughts your pen will write
Till we’re in bed and snuggling tight!
Then if in dream I poems do see,
You’ll dream them, too, and copy me!”