A poem for thee, my silver tongued wench, For a thirst in me thou does quench. Those peasants gaze at thee with admiration, Though for me thou art a muse of inspiration. Their compliments thou should not seek, For see how uninspired they all speak. All uninspired, all but one, Myrmaad, a poem she had done. short, simple and bound, Myrmaad's is the onlyone found. Now I shall cease this ranting and slander, For thou shall have my attention with no banter. Thou with silken lips and silver tongue, In thine name songs shall be sung. Here thou gets quite some renown, To other lass's dispare, Let thine name be well-known, And the winds shall whisper... ....DEZDIMONA.... :wink: J'Roín