A bob of silver hair,
a face like Amelie, age 43,
from Beaver Island, Beverly
For those who care:
a seasonal employee,
an artist, slightly condescending
Perhaps she’s earned the right to to be, that Beverly
I never met a dog who didn’t get along with Beverly
That means something right there
And if you think that I’ll be sending
this here poem to her, recommending Beverly,
I wouldn’t dare
Heck, even if I had a mind to have it sent
and gift her such emoluments
I don’t know where
Beverly
went