Franklin

Franklin was not satisfied This was autumn, but he wanted it to move It did not seem finished He slept on it Not hopeful. His eager muse danced into his dreams And took over, showing him How to make it dance and prance How to make the leaves sparkle and twinkle He watched carefully Was it the soul of his great grandfather? Another artist? Was it an Old Master? Franklin knew not. However, he understood the next morning How to finish autumn It opened to rave reviews How did you get the leaves to dance? He was asked He wisely kept his inspiration to himself, Understanding how fast people can turn on even their closest friends If they feel you are in possession of the devil’s work or some such nonsense. As a reward, his muse gave him more instructional dreams….