Poet’s Lament
By Linda Saholt, East Sierra Branch
Nothing rhymes with orange,
A fact that I find strange.
Giving my mind free range,
Still I can’t quite manage.
Looks okay when written,
But aloud it’s not quite fittin’.
Alas, poor dear orange,
Doomed to under-usage—
A lonely color’s visage,
A quirk of English language.
Looks okay when written,
But aloud it’s not quite fittin’.
“Cause nothing rhymes with orange,
No matter how I rearrange,
The rhyme relentless cannot change.
Still, it’s most exceeding strange.
Looks okay when written,
But aloud it’s not quite fittin’.
“Orange” you glad I’m quittin’?