Ink sows the idea to the womb of the paper
The reader nurtures the literature as its own
Then the reader spreads word to another
To exclaim of this marvelous claim
They herald the news to all they meet
For what this writer has done is no small fete
The world of literature has been enhanced
By reading that poem that must have been chanced
But then its gets forgotten and neglected
For its previous readers have been subjected
To another literature of a kind
Which hasn’t been forgotten or maligned
And thus the cycle of the reader
Returns to the time of the bleeder
Of the ink which has been bled
On every page you have read