A Poet’s Lament

Hubby is quiet
Most of the time
Except when I
Am trying to rhyme

I compose a poem
Once every week
I aim for jolly
And never bleak

Hubby knows
My Sunday plan
In fact, of my poems
He’s rather a fan

I pick up my pen
To begin the ditty
Aiming for clever
Charming and witty

Hubby gets chatty
The moment I start
I have to tell him
I’m not that smart

I can’t converse
And rhyme together
Talk to me later
About the weather

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