It’s funny and surprising how things which we don’t like have a knack of coming back to us.
My recent tryst with grammar has stirred the poet (if I may so) inside me, something I had until now presumed to be non-existent.
Here’s my short poem;
The valiant knight proclaims with great gloom,
‘Enigmatic though the language may be, Grammar proves to be a source of great distress.’
To which I could only profess,
‘My dear, the sufferings are world wide, I presume…!’