Poetry

Sweet Violet Mae

Violet Poetry Challenge

iStock illustration by VasjaKoman

Thomas A. Tuddle admired her from
Afar—
Sweet Violet Mae was her name
With chestnut curls, wild eyes
A-glow—
Man, she was a vixen of a dame

But poor Thomas kept his distance clear
Of the painted lady he found so dear
A lisp upon his lips she’d hear
If he let her get close and near

Sweet Violet Mae was not so
Untamed—
She admired Tom Tuddle all the same
With his charming smile, such a dapper man
Alas—
Sadly, he would surely find her prudence lame

So poor Violet kept her distance clear
Of the gentleman she found so dear
A scar upon her brow her fear
That Tom should see if he were near

One rainy day, Tom sat upon his lonely porch
—What-ho!
And there on hers was Violet Mae
Doing pretty much the same
—Alone!
Rocking on a big porch swing, watching the warm spring rain