I am no Coleridge, no Keats, no
I am I, I have no simile.
I write what comes to my mind.
I write about interesting happenings, I find.
Don’t compare me to Barrett or Browning.
Don’t misunderstand my frowning.
These are expressions of a free minded woman.
Free to do and think without a rein.
I am no Byron or Wordsworth.
My pen expresses sadness and mirth.
I sing about the beautiful white dove.
I sing about the eternal feeling called love.