A lime-rick for you, how poetry should be done.

Lost in the glow of the Firelady's tits
Bosom of the sun that requires oven mitts
Born and begot from the glorious light
The Beacon of Enorian shining in the night
Towards that awesome rack Life flits

- Knight Morrog

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Lleian, in the year 422 MA.