Written in 1983.
Wastepaper basket filled to the brim
with wads of fresh, new paper.
Desk cluttered with paper, ink and pencils.
A slumped figure snores over a sheet of paper.
The words “Once upon a time . . .” are
scribbled out on the top line.
Looking closer at the wads in the basket,
“It began ten years ago . . .”
“Once upon a midnight dreary . . .”
“It was the best of times, it was . . .”
can be seen on the top lines of
the multitudes of paper.
Someday the writer will see the light.
NOTE: Not everyone gets the irony in this poem. Do you?
