A reflection upon the value of proofreading.
Writing tired
I miss things.
How I long
For a camera
To back up my words.
A picture, old Ben said,
Is worth a thousand of them.
Is my kingdom lost
For the lack of one?
A word mislaid
Becomes rejection.
Weary, weary…
I proofread badly.
Shall I sleep
And dream
Of little word sheep
Growing leaves of cash.
Tomorrow…
Tomorrow I will try again.
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