The Quest To Write

The quest to write 'The Great American Novel' gave me no rest Put manly hair on, braggadocio into, my youthful chest Would I ever dream up a plot to span over 300 years Could I do it even after downing a case of beer Ah, but my college days came to their inevitable end No more could I sit under a maple tree and pretend... Now, after 46 years of nothing but work, work, work, work Again I pursue the Holy Grail, my mission not to shirk Though now that my attention, my focus, has dwindled I'm content to pen short poems that kindle A smile or a chuckle from a kindred heart If I can do that, I'll have made a worthy start