BECOMING AN AUTHOR
For a paragraph
in the local paper,
his face on TV, an
inch or two on the
library shelf... he
seals himself in a
cell of solitude ...
denies his eyes the
beauty of nature:
sunset, sunrise,
sprays of silver o'er
rippling cobalt--
even the pure azure
that free lovers see.
Oh, how austerely
he regiments his
short allotted days,
all for a temporary
season of praise:
author, author!
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Fondly,
Marcia