Wednesday, 20 May 2009


Went to the dictionary for the
The word,
The word for her,
But the word for her was gone.
So I called up the man,
The library man,
But the phone was cold.
So I walked down the street,
The museum’s street,
And its doors were wide,
And the library man was deep
Inside the depths beneath
Which kept secrets
Sought when times
Were deeper.
And he stood hung over
Open books and papers
Labelled strangely,
Apparently awaiting me,
And when I asked him for the
Word he said a hundred
Men before me had
It requested first,
And unfortunately it’s use,
Long saved for utter fools,
Had been consumed,
And lesser tools would
Have to do

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