Metaphor
It doesn't matter how I try, my feet
resist, and will not keep a steady beat--
they trip and tumble
or lurch and stumble,
although I will persist, in case by chance
the rhythms smooth so I can start to dance.
--Katherine Quimby Johnson. All rights reserved.
If I did what I think I did, this poem should make you smile.
I've been thinking in iambs
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