My attempt at Ottava Rima. The day eight challenge of NaPoWriMo. I could hardly manage the prescribed eight lines this time. My shortest poem so far.
Under five feet tall, she looked like a kid,
She would walk around in a duck-like style.
She looked into my eyes and all she did,
Was to part her lips to form a smile.
The infatuation was hard to get rid.
But she was unaware all this while.
She was my first attempt at romance.
I should have known, I didn’t stand a chance.
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