There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.

Homer, Greek Poet

. . .

A sleepy head, brain-begone,

Picked up his pen to write.

What followed was a written-wrong,

That’s best kept out of sight.

Yet here it is on full display,

For you to snatch a glimpse.

Flee before first letter, I say,

Go read the writings of chimps!

The sleepy poet writes worses,

With spelling that can’t be verse.

And conducts manifold searches

To outwrite the writer’s curse.

The drowsy poet letters:

“I feel like a mouse in a trap”.

Thoughts seemed bound by fetters,

So, the poet took a nap.

. . .

Granville D. Austin