Some days back , I began writing a story.
A few characters born and christened
Grew out of thin air , on vanity fattened
Run amok amongst the pages
looking for their place in the ages
Hunting down their own history .
She , he and they , puffs of smoke , all
God , did they make me hurry
Behind their backsides blurry
trailing the thread of narrative
muddying the perspective
sloshing through the swamp , spinning the ball
I finally collected my own yarn
lassoed all the parties aberrant
bringing them to the forefront
Tying all the loose ends
frayed ones I did mend
So much hard work , darn
Weaving a tale ,
fat as a whale
was a lesson for me
henceforth , just tiny
stories .teeny weeny
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