Ode to Shakespeare

'Tis learning lines and whence to move
That at my age is wont to prove,
That sorely it doth tax my brain
And all this work to be in vain.
Ah, Shakespeare, though I am imbued
With rhyming couplets and subdued
Within my honesty to know
That all in all, I strive to grow,
As doth the ever climbing vine
To reach for sunlight and to shine
Upon the branches of this tree
And thus illumine memory.
As much as I repeat my words
And sing aloft to listening birds,
As cadence lilts so easily
Within my heart to set it free,
My struggle to retain the clue
To the next line that doth ensue.
The rambling path to a clear thought
Becomes a labyrinth so frought
With twists and turns that I get lost,
But hold my own at any cost.
Yet slow retention doth advance
And on I go to dance this dance.

Prema Rose