When the brutal battle of bards begins

and my metaphorical sword is set

may the verse overflow like molten steel,

may it rouse Romeo and Juliet.

When my guard goes down at the close of day

and I rid my musical mind of rhyme,

may the Divine have mercy on my soul

may sleep, sweet sleep, be completely sublime.

For those warriors whose witty words might win

when the battle of the Bards is complete,

regard not what they relate about me

except that my struggle was bittersweet.

For it is not victory  that I crave

It’s knowing my finest is all I gave…

Susan J.