Moonlight

‘Twas moonlight, and the starlight shone

Onto a head of golden hair.

Before the window, all alone,

A girl sat writing poetry there.

“Be sure of rhyming words, my dear,

Make sure the words all fit the beat.

If there’s one thing that you should fear,

It’s that your rhythmic pulse is neat.”

She took her paper in her hand,

Long time the words from her pen flowed.

Then rested she from imagination’s land,

For she was proud of what was shown.

And as in deepest thought she paused,

A flood of words from her mind burst through!

The paper welcomed back her pen

And, of course, the poet too.

One, two! One, two!

She jotted down another phrase.

Her pen like lightning, bright and swift,

Flew across another page.

“And look what I have made just now,”

She gave a little laugh and smile.

And, bending o’er the desk again,

She wrote for another little while.

‘Twas moonshine, and the starlight shone

Onto a head of golden hair.

Before the window, all alone,

A girl sat writing poetry there.