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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Comedy · #1002668
This is a limerick poem satire about fallen nobility because I like Lewis Carroll


Lady Ellen Masters

Lady Ellen Masters was born of noble blood.
Her regal forbears died in a great flood.

One afternoon as I was walking,
we happened to meet and started talking.

She told me about her fabulous jewels,
locked in a safe at a place called Sewells.

"I dare not wear them" she said with
trepidation.
"I must protect my sterling reputation.
Precious gems attract too much attention.
Going out would cause me apprehension.
The only satisfaction I get you see,
is knowing they belong to me."

Turning to leave, I noticed her sleeve
was worn above the ruffle.

Looking down, I heard the sound of her boot
with a broken buckle.

Seeing that I noticed, she replied with a
little chuckle, "I keep my finer clothes
packed away and reserved for more important
days".
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