Every writer loves a poor spendthrift reader
Like naive followers love a rich, successful leader
Great thoughts when you let them out
First flap like wet washing, then butterfly about
Writers may start out befuddled
With lots of fine words jumbled, muddled
But keenly clean and iron them out
With thoughts of cute baby readers cuddled
Now we enjoy the internet, beat it, meet it
Which grabs thoughts like repeated ads you can't forget
Hope readers recall where they read it
So that they can give you credit
You can boast of love
Kick the air in a rage
Drop wild emotions
On an innocent page
Steal from a dictionary
Borrow from a thesaurus
Bow down before judges,
All the geniuses before us
Ugly words obstruct like heavy logs
Half formed thoughts jump about like frogs
Indecision, like too many pretty hats
As the saying goes, like herding cats
But after years when we totter and rehearse
We can inject fast like a skilful nurse
Commas pause like little railway stations
Stops end lines, the terminus of punctuation
Shouting down the century
Daring to write on the page
Strutting on a hidden stage
Trying to dodge the waiting grave
To readers seeking what they lack
Like us, they try to answer back
Declaiming to the silent wall
When nobody can hear at all
And yet, like a map, a signpost, a guide, my writing works
Though the sender is dead, deaf or blind
Thoughts like an Uber arrow of dinner, dessert and drink
Leave my bow, reach the target, your mind.
I can pass on praise, create words of hope
For every ill, find an antidote
Paint a dance, sing a song, a merry whistle
Words can lighten, brighten and glitter like crystal.
And so, dearest reader, I share my treasure
And give to you new joy, in the old parcel of pleasure.
-ends-
