The Naturalist and The Boxer - By Dan'l MclLhenny

Story by story 

The word count climbs 

Often so befitting 

It blows the mind 

Practice punches 

From the boxer 

Who rhyme’s sublime 

Long before his . . . 

Rounds arrive 

 

She speaks softly 

Call me when 

Your rage is done 

I’m out exploring 

Happy finding fun 

A relationship 

Discovered 

Thanks to one 

Over reliable Sun 

 

Go on banging 

Those keyboard keys 

Knock out another 

Leave ‘em 

Begging please 

Show no mercy 

It’s a disease 

With nothin’ 

At all to prove 

 

While she see’s 

Skies awaken 

Where light 

And shadow play 

As sunshine 

Dances on water 

Steals breath away 

Like curtain call sunset 

Bids a day . . . adieu 

 

He tells her… 

Ballet begins 

In the ring Doll 

Where a writer 

defends or dies 

Line after staggering line 

Where phrases seldom align 

If wordsmith’s truly hunger 

It’s asking for more time

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