The Wordsmith (With apologies to all poets)

He hid in his garret
Working into the night
Afraid of the daylight
Not equipped for the fight

Daylight she came
With a rush of fresh air
Scattering the papers
The wordsmith hid there

Into the air the words flew with a rush
Out of the window in a blistering gush
The sun she beckoned as she danced on the sill
Please join the dance it waits for you still

The wordsmith he looked as his secrets laid bare
And wondered whatever had kept him so occupied there
He opened the door with one shivering bound
And found all he had sought in the heart of the crowd.