I admire people who can paint,
Who aren’t embarrassed when they’re asked to draw.
The Muse of Visual Arts showed true restraint
When gracing me: I earn less awe than, “Aww.”
Likewise the vocal arts, whose patroness
Gave me the skill to hear and recognize
My less-than-perfect pitch, though I confess
I sing despite the sadness in her eyes.
The Literary Muse took pity, though,
And–probably when all the rest had gone–
On me a love of writing did bestow
And charged me thusly: Try to pass it on.
Words are all I have to give away,
So, no, I won’t be shutting up today.


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