Raging indignation
From my teenage girl
Venting righteous spleen
At my poetic license.
Imagine her confusion when
Expressing her vast displeasure
With my nightly poem
Addressing her behavior
Produced a startled grin
And not chastened chagrin
As she might expect!
Be still my buoyant spirit
Lifted high by her critique
For in her vitriolic fury
The message I received was
“She reads my poetry!”
Aroil in Pain 