Let the lexicon of my existence  
Be a nonstop string of superlatives,  
To tilt against the rebuking chance gives,  
With their gillyflowers of recompense  
Packed in the finery of tailored words  
Since at least I have the gift of the gab;  
A late talent I could not quickly grab...

Like literacy for lazy goatherds.  
Thus upon a volta, I turned, and throve,  
And realized that all along I had  
Brain storms as noble as Sir Galahad  
In the armamentarium alcove  
Notoriously difficult to scan;  
That onetime melancholy mind...of man!
Written by MidnightSonneteer
Published | Edited 7th Feb 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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