Two rhyming poems is all we had to produce in the way of "real" poetry and this is one of mine. It's actually a sonnet and after writing this one I truly believe Shakespeare would look at it and want to put his name to it--My pride runs that deep.
Enjoy.
Him
So often do the words around me pass
Without so much as stopping to survive.
The prepositions, fragile, fall like glass
While nouns of value find a way to thrive.
Before, a pronoun was of little worth
Uncaring was the use from day to day
For “her” and “him” it was of common birth
The leader of the least of all to say.
Until he came and gave his hand to guide
Upon my back with confidence to spare,
And spoke about the beauty in my eyes
A turn of friendship into love affair.
So now with every use of him and he
The value of a pronoun grows, exponentially.
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