POEM of the Week

 On Behalf of Ink and Lead

How often have you stopped to think,
Of all the lead and all the ink,
That gave their lives that you might read,
Whenever you felt you had the need?
That's silly, you say, no lives were given.
No ink and lead were really livin'.
How you think that, I Can't abide...
It was murder then, not suicide!


Copyright ©2006 Frederick A. Jackson