Flighty

Guided by whim and fancy,

This girl I call her Nancy

She’s skittish, her head in the clouds

Capricious, yet strangely not loud

 

Her presence is naught but passing

With us, she’s all but ever dancing

For time, to her we waste

And she is much in haste

 

I woke and evening descended

Today, it seemed had ended

Perplexed, I recalled the flighty lassie

My day was such a Nancy! 

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