Lowly Bow Poem by William Coyne

Grateful that we found some precious time,
to place our jangled words from line to line,
and raise some part of our inner feelings
to nurse the bruises of daily dealings,

I thank you writers of blank or rhyming
verses who keep the worth of living chiming,
and remind us all of riches within
that make us cry out, and make us grin in.

Please accept a bow from this street born child,
who strives for better, but grew up wild.
As a Quince, a Bottom, a Flute, a Snug
a Starveling, offer praise more suited for bugs,

with sincere and loving intent do seek
to offer broken leg with smiling cheek
when the lines are done and curtain drawn,
that you may better rise to greet your dawn.