To scribing tasks, I set my hand again
As I have done at times since those years when
I thought myself advanced well in my ken
And looked at others as if from on high.
The years since passed have given that the lie,
Have shown such haughtiness was but a cry
A child voiced in the woods when left alone
That called not help, but made those nearby prone
To staying far away. The years have shown
That haughty cry did all too well its task,
And now, when it might be that I ask
For aid or comfort, show a thinner mask,
I am refused. But this is only just;
I have thus trained, and thus do this, I must.

Graduations are coming, and bespoke verse always makes a fine gift.
Get yours today!

Or send support along to paypal.me/ElliottRWI