I came across a splendid poem today and wondered
if by thinking I was good enough I had totally blundered
I read a piece that made my pieces look half baked
One quite perfect my micro confidence she did affect
I read her chronological lines now I reflect
eyes opened to room for improvement I had staked
I read a piece that hounded my ego in proof I ain't a pro
claiming I have learning to do and a million miles to go,
comically weaved in her humour and philosophical satire
which lent her glitters of stars and glisten of sapphire
she blew me louder than the whistle of an experienced umpire
and hit the mark, fitting my mind better than my tailored attire
I read a concoction which made me rethink
for to my seemingly scented pieces she lent a stink
now I realise I have to reconsider the broth I cook
wonder the time to pen she took plus the multitude she really shook
uncomfortable in silent deafening solitude whilst I contemplate
whether to declare my admiration or disguise it in hate
for this poem I construed and wished it were me who wrote
one entrancingly put, breathtaking and celestially thought
she was bitter sweet with the tranquillity of tequila
a piece as captivating as a Hadley Chase Thriller