April 20, 2012 by Sez
This is an obscure Spanish form, pronounced “the hell”.
A nice form, but not the best poem today. Not feeling very inspired.
My manner’s always frosty, freezing
Out the ones I find displeasing
Time spent with me’s a bitter season.
I would rather be alone
Than talk for ages in the phone
And never call my soul my own
And so I give you no good reason
To hang around me day and night,
Although I’m gruff and impolite
You shrug and laugh off every slight
I cannot bear your constant teasing!
Though I find your presence vile
I find that in a little while
You almost make me want to smile
I feel something within me squeezing
Could it be that my heart has thawed?
I hope you do not think you’ve scored
Or that you’re wanted or adored!
There really isn’t any reason!