Aye, tis the words that we like
and ne'r do we get enough.
No prose needs to be found
but we would lament the folly,
if none read what we wrote.
Oh to edit all my days,
it is the burden of us all.
To throw the words around,
but fear any we might drop.
For they shall come to haunt us,
whenever we dare to sleep.
Our eyelids to be pasted,
so we continue this merry-go round.
Life is but for the editing,
so I better depart!