A Pome from Home is a delicacy
specifically written for you…by me.
The words are tenderly plucked at their peak
with studious thought to the havoc they’ll wreak
Violets are bluish and roses are reddish…
the truism here is that rhyming’s a fetish;
unless there’s a rhyme, the words are just prose
and prose is quite dry as everyone knows.
When rhyme is the rule and reason’s unsure
odds are that something’s amiss or impure.
Such basics as content will take quite a hit
from surgical placement of iambs that fit.