Somewhere along the way, a piece of prose
Rebuked my clumsy overtures. Incensed,
I pressed my cause, to no effect… until
A minor rhythm change struck home; it moaned
With pleasure. Emboldened by this conquest,
I courted other passages – my sole
Intent, to bend their rigid wills to mine.
With each new score, I poked and prodded further;
Their “oohs” and “ahs” seduced my soul as well.
Does that make me the new Don Juan of poesy…
Or just another gigolo of rhyme?