My Rhymes

Sometimes the rhymes I like to write,

They might say very little,

Just a way to mark a day,

Fluffy, light, and brittle.

They never may change history’s course,

Nor change a single mind,

They’re the gift for when I’m gone,

The gift I’ll leave behind.

But if they give a little lift, to just a single soul,

To me you see that seems to make them weigh the weight of gold.