An Everyday Rhymer

An ordinary rhymer i have written a lot
But it bothers me none if i will be remembered or not
The rhymes come to me on notepaper i pen them down
Though without hope of financial reward or renown

I feel inspired by the beauty around me
Though an everyday rhymer is all i can be
But with my better days to the forever gone
I must be addictive to keep rhyming on

I never refer to myself as a poet
Nor am i one worthy of literary note
I do enjoy rhyming the reason i write
The rhymes that are easy to read and recite

The white and the brown butterflies are now out
In the warm summer air quietly flitting about
They do seem to dance in the timid afternoon breeze
Above the flowering bushes and blossoming trees

Nature at her finest a beautiful sight
The scent of the peppermint trees to the senses a delight
On a warm afternoon in early January
The finest of beauty we do not pay to see.

by Francis Duggan

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