A Lesson

I knew a poetess with a touch
Of Boadicea about her long hair.
Once she told me that poets
Are thieves: thus taking care
That behind her lay a lurking dagger
Waiting to surprise me
Before my defenses could swagger
Against her slashing at my pearls,
And wanting to prove to her
I not only understood the lesson
But took the craft implied to heart,
I furiously cooked up a session
Conjured from her own words kidnapped for my own verse
Hoping against further theft it shall prove a counter-curse.

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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