A staid man stayed and made the maid
pare a pair of pears for lunch
When they arose, a rose was there
their nose still knows a bunch
He sent a cent or two for scents,
his favorite smelling flower
Sew a bag for seed to sow
so cede the crop for flour
The pros of prose are right
to write about the rites they cite
The site they read, so seldom read
about the detailed sight
I see the icy sea rise up
and sail a gale named Gail
A pail we got on sale today
sits by a sailor pale
I bought a plain Jane plane last year
a tale with a tail number
The lien I pay when times are lean
a loan alone encumber
A tale about a dolphin's tail
is playing in theaters
As is Real Steel, those reels no steals
that's why we watch the laters
Just two more words to finish this
not too much left this time
That thyme is right to match it, but
for orange there is no rhyme.
Richard Higley © Nov 2011
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