The words and letters jumble,
She writes them front to back.
To re-arrange the round way right,
She hasn’t got the knack.
Thankful that the month has come
For Christmas pudding stirs,
She shuts her eyes, spoons round and round
For name change to be hers.
She could have been an Ava,
Lil, Izzi, Viv or Elle,
To her chagrin, she is Lirpa
“But I’m April”, hear her yell.
She’s mistress of semordnilap
We panic in a pew,
But give her words that most write right,
She’s really in a stew.
The ones that she can manage,
Noon, level, kayak – more
Flow from her pen, like racecar,
Was it a cat I saw?
‘Tis Ivan on a visit.
Nurse, I spy gypsies, run.
A clue to name she’s wishing for?
Now Eve, we’re here, we’ve won!