My Woes

I'm a tad dried up I haven't written a poem in a while, Waiter, pour some coffee in my cup, So where was I, Trying to convince you about you're beautiful smile, No, I was talking about my woes, As you can see, I'm a terrible poet, I couldn't rhyme to save my life, But, Hey, it pays the bills, even helps me deal with my foes, You try to tell me I'm a good poet, sadly I don't show-it Someday, maybe, I'll read my poems to my wife.