Fear and trembling have overtaken me,

For I have found out such a horrid truth.

You see, I have always wanted to know.

Where it was, that old poets did go.

This truth came to me as quite a surprise,

For I would not have believed none of it,

 If I had I not seen it with my very own eyes.

A trip to the “Goodwill” I made one day,

To observe everyday folks and the trinkets on display.

I was watching their habits as they bought little things.

For some bought clothes, while others acquired rings.

It is interesting to see what people will do to save a dime.

For that is the reason I came, I am so broke it should be a crime.

Nevertheless, I do digress, so prepare yourself and I will confess.

I really did see, where old poets go when they partake eternity.

Are you ready? Are you sure you can take this? Ok here it goes.

Old poets can be found in the musty old books.

Hidden if you will, from sight.

 Tucked in the corners of forever and a night.

 The way I see it, this should really be a crime,

For the books looked as if they had never been read,

 And they only cost a dime.

So now, you know,

Where it is, that old poets go.