he wrote little bits of meaning
on scraps of paper
and the people said
it's very pretty
and very good
(and very witty)
and they hoped he would
write some more
but he laid down his pen
and looked at them
with the eyes
of a great, sad dalmatian
and wrote no more
© John McNeil. All rights reserved.
This poem may be used free of charge, on the condition that copies are not sold for profit in any medium, nor any entrance fee charged to a performance. In exchange, the author would appreciate being notified of any occasion the poem is used in public performance. He may be contacted at: