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.
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