Princess Ann Poem by Barry Van Allen

There is a lady called Ann,
a self appointed critic of her peers,
in words of wayward loss,
she sprinkles judgment frost,
and causes those around her inner tears!

She holds within her powers,
such fine abilities,
to spread such splendid pleasures,
yet ... spreads iniquity!

Though dubious the future that is hers,
she forges always onwards toward a dream,
in her twisting turning time,
she is bound to find,
the meaning in the back round,
of her conceited tiny mind!