Limericks

Though I haven’t an interest in reading a book,

pages of limericks might get a look.

For my feeble eyes may fall

on rhythms which reach out and call.

Alas, limericks cannot make up a book.

If a book of limericks is what I want,

my writing skills I must proudly flaunt.

For a book of such skill,

requires time to kill.

My limericks cannot be in a boring font.

Time is an item I do not possess,

and writing pages cause me stress.

My book of limericks cannot be,

as with time I am carefree.

I am sad of such, I must confess.

Maybe my book is only a dream.

One which is falling apart at the seam.

Hundreds of poems in one spot,

is an idea which had aught

to get authors picking up some steam.

No more hope for my book of limericks,

hopefully an idea someone else picks.

A writer with more skill than mine,

who can write a book mighty fine,

will write limericks which will transfix.