I took my muse to the library
One dreary, rainy day,
And when I turned to look for him,
I found he’d run away.
I searched for him in the travel books,
No telling where he’d be—
In mountains, beaches, wilderness,
Somewhere across the sea.
Adventure stories I saw next,
A special draw for him.
Though many heroes tarried there,
He wasn’t one of them.
I browsed amid tomes classical
And strolled through poetry,
And while verse was his favorite,
He wasn’t there for me.
I looked through shelves of how-to books,
My first choice: how to write,
And though that’s where I thought he’d be,
Not one glimpse did I sight.
To track him down I ventured forth
And even took a chance,
I rushed through math and science books
And lingered in romance.
In volumes inspirational,
I circled round and round,
Then reasoned if he wasn’t here,
He was not to be found.
I’d gone through Dewey Decimal,
Done everything but shout.
Not finding hide nor hair of him,
I guess that he’d checked out.
I really miss him since he’s gone;
Without him I’m no good.
I’d keep him chained up by my side
If there’s a way I could.
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