It Was My Love Of Rhyme

I wrote my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
When i was twenty seven in human years long ago
Before time that rusts iron did become my foe

I used to  daydream that i would be a poet
A writer well worthy of literary note
But on saying that rhymers are  many and poets are few
Is stating the obvious and not anything new

Though everyone has their own dream to pursue
Not everyone's dream in life does come true
And though a poetaster as such is the best i can be
My love of writing rhyme suppose will die with me

There are rhymers and poetasters in every town
Who do have their own dreams of literary renown
And though their work from literary history may be quick to fade
Everybody is needed in the wordsmith trade

When i say i love rhyming it is not a lie
And i hope to be doing it until the day i do die
It was my love of rhyme made a rhymer of me
I wrote my first rhymes in nineteen seventy three.