DROOL'S ARTWORK

I’d impressed upon myself
The need to write once more
Having gloried in the praises

... And sat with zest anew
Only nothing seemed to come
Of my pen’s beguiled thrust;
Even when night sucked delight
From such enterprise
I crammed above my wooden desk
Intent on creating once more,
An object of much praise

...But found sleep
Crawling from the tiredness of my back
Through so many nerve endings
Till I could hardly see the point
Of my pen or its mark
Any my eyelids gladly shut
As drool from my hovering mouth
Soiled the wasted sheet.