WORD WARRIOR
A proud strut and a flash of charm
are enough to lure me in.
Sweet similes of comfort
and glowing phrases of concern
sparkle like the hilt of your sword.
With an urge to taste the zest of life
and the allure of its adverbs,
I enter this arena, armored,
I imagine, in the nouns of love.
A duet, perhaps? You fling a phrase
and slowly draw me in
with encircling participles
and adoring adjectives.
I elude you with a mighty metaphor.
Not expecting resistance, you parry
with a vengeful verb, then close
for the kill. Egde to edge, verb to verb
we struggle, your glittering blade
the more experienced.
I am cut. I bleed allusions
like fiery red rain drops.
Wounded, I thrust you away
with one last doughty gerund.
I shall live to fight another day.
For now, sheath your wicked switchblade
and accept my youthful defeat graciously...
and remain unhumbled,
Oh Mighty Word Warrior.