I've been trying to come up up with something fitting. Usually it isn't difficult, as in this example of "the Bob that can whip up a poem with only a word or two for inspiration."
In this case, poor Hope and Glory made the mistake of misspelling one teensy little word...
Lillte Miss In Pure White
Lillte Miss in pure white, with your sonorous flight,
So beguiling to us, cringing here in day’s night,
Is there hope for our souls, that they too may fly?
Though your lilting gives cheer, it does not answer why.
In our village of mean, dingy streets and of dirt,
How did something so pure come alive out of hurt?
With a voice that enthralls, and a delicate hand,
When will you depart with the Lords of the land?
In the meantime, sing on. Lift our hearts with your trill.
Let the tears of our joy down our dusty cheeks spill.
Help us lighten our burden, and embrace with faint hope,
That you will not be wed, and we lose Miss and ‘Thrope.
In our village so poor, we have only one joy,
And we curse in a silence to await its employ.
Sing out your heart, while it still has its wings,
As we pause in our drudging of all lesser things.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . August 23, 2005
I guess I'll have to sleep on it...
