Friday, January 22, 2016

The Real Work

Just a thousand a day,
You look at it that way,
Eighty days, you will be able to say,
You have a first draft, nay,

You will have a first pass at an attempt,
One might e'en say a dent,
Kernel of an idea, p'haps nugget,
With a smidgen of what you really meant,

Then you will go back and tear it apart,
Few things left in your cart,
But precious, mined from the depths of your heart,
Representing your art,
Your own real truth,
Both genius and uncouth,
That is when the real work begins, forsooth,
When you show the path to grown-up from youth.

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