Happy Larks 1st Poem

Pondering past midnight I rest unsure If my thoughts and rhymes would be a cure I seem to have displaced my pen and papers Don’t’ have a thick candle, only tapers A famous poet is my envision I have cataracts, I’ll need a re-vision. Can’t decide whether to rhyme or write in prose Maybe it will be a masterpiece, who knows? When the words come into focus I lose them so quickly, like hocus pocus. Most often I write in the present tense Sometimes in a dialogue or even nonsense! A title name takes some time to decide Sometimes it’s perfect or it can be cockeyed. This oil lamp provides me with adequate light I need to stay awake most all night, I need a word that rhymes with pappy I know, I’ll use a dwarf’s name of ‘happy’. So happy and pappy will be in this line ‘Oh my gosh’, Oil in the lamp is low; I’m out of time, What will I make of this unfinished classic? Will I get the Pulitzer Award or a jar of pickles from Vlasic? Perhaps someday someone will pick up this book Go flipping thru the pages with a frustrating look, As it stands now, I’m left in the dark I’ll just end it here, pen name: Happy Lark.