No my baby
your monsters aren't real
now go back to sleep
there's no big deal

Yes my love
have the sweetest of dreams
it's just shadows you see
and dancing moonbeams

No little one
it's not your monsters you see
no need to be frightened
they are here for me

Yes my child
mummy knows how to fight
i'll be right back
night night sleep tight

You're the faintest memory,
But the strongest one.
Ended without a sorry,
Also ended with none.

You're the prologue,
That broke me so bad,
You're the epilogue,
Of the days we had.

You're a short chapter,
But the most memorable one.
What sorrow more sweeter?
When to you I never won.

Creating a poem was hard to do
It had to rhyme all the way through
Choosing what you want to say
The words must fit in the right way
You must be wise, and of course clever
To succeed in this endeavour
The special thing about a poem
The rhyme of verse, that alone
It makes you think, touches the heart
You cannot but help to love this art
The thoughts they flow, images race
Everything falls into place
It matters not if you're unknown or have fame
As long as the last words all sound the same
It's the rhyme, that made me
Fall in love with poetry
But now poetry is high brow
Stilted words
Fragmented sentence
Fill the spaces with thought
To find the meaning
RIP the poor rhyme