THE WRITER… a silly poem

Why the writer fell

No one will ever know

Perhaps the quips and snips he wrote

Were too much of a show

Maybe his plots were way too deep

Or, perhaps not deep enough

If he hadn’t written with crayon, yeah

It might have been good stuff

toddler holding assorted-color Crayola lot

But no, he fell

All the way down

Now, he needs to write himself out

For when you are two

With nothing else to do

Crayons are good in the mouth

Image credit