Pentameter is what I used to be.
Now I'm something less, as you can see.
Just what am I supposed to be?
I keep losing syllables.
If I don't stop shrinking
Then I am thinking
That pretty soon
There will be
Nothing
Left.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
great picture. reminds me of my third wife. :) bri