The Poet

John was an old bachelor
Who worked as a clerk
For little money
And no perk,
But every evening
Till late at night
In his furnished room
Poetry he'd write.
"I'll soon be dead",
He one day said,
"But my poetry
Will be famous
And widely read",
Only his landlady
Gave his creation
To the Department
Of Sanitation,
Soon to be seen
As a reprocessed
Paper ream;
So, if you can read
Between the lines,
You'll find John's poetry
In the New York Times.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz