I was writing a poem
When my friend said to me
"That truly sounds amazing
Is it really you?"
I swelled up with pride
Quite visibly so
A poet?
I say
How wonderful
I know
I snatched up my poem
And strutted around
Showing it off
As much as I could
That fatal proverb
Came to my mind
"Pride comes before a fall"
I banished the thought
As I took the paper out
For the hundredth time
Snatched it
Right out of my hand
I dashed around
But the wind was too quick
It flew away merrily
Out of my sight
A tear welled up
I wiped it hastily
For it was my own dear fault
My pride and me.