Reprise

I don't know why, but I've had an extended and rather unusual case of blogger's block lately.  Somehow, giving myself permission to write only when I have something to say has turned off a switch somewhere in my brain.  Pebbles says I should write about having joined Weight Watchers, and I think I'll do just that.  Tomorrow.  But today, I'm resurrecting a poem I wrote last year while suffering the same brain dead blogging malady.  Have a great day!

There once was a girl who had zero to say

Nothing profound or funny or even cliche

So she sat down to ponder and set out to write

A compelling account of her day

Alas, there was nothing, though hard she did try

To entertain, inform, or perhaps feign to imply

That a sonnet might serve as a stand-in this once

But her venture at verse went awry

Some days are just like that, she rightly bemoaned

There is naught of acclaim to be borrowed or owned

But no matter the disguise or creative facade

Saying nothing cannot be condoned

Conceding, she came to her end and declined

To write any longer, to her fate she consigned

To give up the battle, to throw in the towel

For rhyme is more burdensome than prose, she repined.

The end.