For my new editor Deshae

I know a famous poet, who is Ellen’s sister Gail.  Not long ago she sent me a red inked letter in the snail mail.

She had bragged about how her poems don’t rhyme.  Which I thought would actually be sort of a crime.

While I have never claimed to be a rhymer.  Matter of fact my good friend Jimmy O says I’m an old timer.

To prove to his wife Weece I’m not close to dead.  I’m going to tell you a quick story about something that was read.

A gangly little girl named Deshae.  Left me in a tremendous deal of dismay.

When my granddaughter Ka'mya was visiting from back east .  After we all had enjoyed our wonderful barbecue feast.

I figured I’d give the aforementioned 6th grader.  A chance to read some of my firemen book stories that might aide her.

Together with her toe-headed cousin Shade .  My book writing days soon began to fade.

They both laughed, they giggled and scoffed .  They said I should better learn to use Microsoft.

They chimed something about my misuse .  About how my adjectives and “Hickersonism’s” were some sort of abuse.

They asked me what was a fuddrucker?  I said please don’t be a one.

Because by then I’d like to have been able to backhand her.  If for nothing else but for slander.

The moral of this heartfelt story.  Is if you’re truly looking for glory.

Don’t ask someone who’s only ten.  But still much smarter then you’ve probably ever been .

To read about your fireman lie’s.  And then to sincerely inform you, your not going to win a literature writers Noble Prize.