Beauty from Strathspey . . .

That fine dusk in my garden
Smelled of musk from Arden,
What so calm and what so pleasant,
She looked like palm n cream moon crescent.

I went near like a dopey
She jumped like a deer in spokey;
I gave her the berry which was grapey
She took it and told "you look like pompey".
She then stood and performed the Strathspey;
All the time with her was joyous n gay.

Quavering Poet.
9th Jan ’08.