This rhyme’s not about a single thing,
No person; object, feeling.
Not the loveliness of a nascent spring,
Or anything you’ll find appealing.

It’s just strings of words along four lines,
With a slow propellant beat.
Small cabinet of shapes, designs,
With supporting metered feet.

It doesn’t refer to the sorts of themes,
Such lines might well convey.
So on life or love; joy, hope and dreams,
Has nothing here to say.