Thursday, January 13, 2011

Poem #118

The first mile we walk,
it's easy to talk.
The breathing's still easy to time.

After the second,
I notice home's beckoned.
But we still push ahead.

Three miles done,
it feels like we've won.
But still there are miles to go.

With four miles down,
we've passed through the town.
I think I can still make this rhyme.

After mile five,
we're still quite alive,
though I start fantasizing of bed.

I find the sixth mile
feels like a trial.
When it will end, I don't know.

With the seventh mile past,
we see home at long last!
And isn't it just about time?

This poem was composed after my darling wife and I went for a seven-mile walk. I like the complexity of the rhyme scheme here. Each stanza is AAB and the last lines of the stanzas are ABCABCA. I'm not really happy with the last line of the first stanza, but such is life.

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