I once had a twin sister named Lucy.
When given an assignment, she burst into tears,
Sobbing, “Oh, this poem I hate!
To make matters worse, I can’t find my pen!”
Borrowing my pen, she began her sestina.
Sniffing loudly, she wrote her name on her paper.

Crumpling her scribbled-up paper,
She detested being called Poet Lucy.
“I’ll write the best sestina!”
She vowed and wiped her tears.
While searching for the borrowed pen,
She grumbled, “This sestina I hate.”

“English I’ll forever hate!
I have wasted twelve pages. Now I need more paper,
And I still can’t find my pen!”
Wept the unfortunate Lucy.
Down rosy cheeks slid unheeded tears
As she wrestled with her sestina.

She growled and tore her frustrating sestina.
Shocked by her unbridled hate,
She gasped and wiped fresh tears
As she taped together her paper.
She thought of a pen name for Lucy
And reluctantly picked up my pen.

She pressed so hard she broke my pen
As she composed her dreaded sestina.
Tossing all night, she berated Lucy
For being so stupid she couldn’t even hate
The second draft of the sestina on crumpled paper.
I hoped she could shed no more tears.

The next morning, she hid more tears
As she, in dissatisfaction, broke pen after pen.
By now her sestina was a bittersweet friend on paper.
She endearingly called it, “My Dear Sestina.”
Never again did she tear or hate
A poem. Her fame spread as Poet Lucy.

Yes, she had dried many tears as she struggled with her sestina.
Now, she used her pen to dispose of her hate.
Published on paper is an outstanding poem from my twin Lucy.