Now let’s not get personal

Using words as an arsenal

I may be a frump

But when emotion whirrs

Words tumble out

Like a mixer on stir.

They can say, she’s old

Give her a break

But there’s only so much

Well versed minds can take.

Ideas run like icing on cake

She’d never think she would make a mistake

But there’s always a critic or two

Who are indignant, or try to woo

Words blurted out by me and you

Take it all with a grain of salt

That’s what Pliny the Elder taught.


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