Poet's Lament

I goes to work each mornin I comes home every night. I gets out pen and paper And tries to sit and write. The words they sometimes comes, Sometimes they stays away. I finds it quite annoying I knows not what to say. And then to my surprise, A brilliant thought appears. I tries to writes it down Before it disappears. I fergits with ease these daze, It’s really not a chore. The older that I grows, I fergits more and more. My spellin’s now improvin I guess it’s plane to see. I finally learned to spell The word “kertastrofee.” So as I close this works of art I hopes it’s brung you joys. Pleeze don’t throw away! Pleeze share with others this noise.