On & on & on & warbling she
goes,
Rambling in rhyming, verse & prose,
Neither the short nor concise for her,
As in her cauldron, the words, she stirs.
She is the rambler of all life´s ridicules,
She loves foxing folk & breaking rules,
She´s the teller of truths & long tall
tales,
Littering letters behind her, in messy trails.
She is the witch of those wild & wily
words,
Putting onto parchment, animals & tiny
birds,
Scribbling all she feels, of life &
imminent death,
Trapping poems inside, would stop very
breath.
Wending her weary way, over paths & empty
page,
Becoming, in the process, a wonderful old sage,
Waxing in sweet lyrical, her old poetry &
her tales,
Never stop her in her tracks, lest you hear
her wail.
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