I headed to the writing sale to find myself a bargain,
Hoping for some nouns or verbs—at least some snappy jargon.
The crowd had gathered earlier around the auction cart,
And I picked up my bidder card aglow with hopeful heart.
Wagons, trailers, tables, boards were loaded down with wares,
Some extremely valuable, none of them that rare.
I knew I'd seen each one of them in turn someplace before,
The gerunds rusty, diphthongs flat, and mixed-up metaphors.
I came across a box of cliche drying in the sun,
A rotten rhyming couplet that spoiled half my fun.
I couldn't find the essay trove or Bag of Many Themes,
And thought there was Idea Blend boxed up, but it was memes.
The textbook section, dry as dust, was nonetheless resourceful,
While symbolism filled a cart to more than half a horseful.
I held aloft a paragraph whose thesis, while supported,
Had some extra ramblings that left me feeling thwarted.
The prepositions on the rack were kind of neat, I guess,
But why would there be sentence fragments tangled in that mess?
The denouement and nuance set was dainty, I'll admit,
But I could never pull that off 'thout sounding like a twit.
Just when I thought I'd wasted time by coming down at all,
I turned around and there I found the object of my thrall!
At first it didn't look like much, all full of dust and spiders,
But I knew I had to take it home—I mean, I am a writer.
And when my quarry took its turn up on the auction stand,
I flicked my card not once, not twice, but fifteen times each hand!
The auctioneer, he sang to me “Now, sold for all you bid!”
I paid and still I couldn't help but grin at what I did.
Oh sure, it doesn't look like much before I flesh it out,
Fix its gaps and fill its holes, but please, before you doubt,
Suspend your disbelief a bit and follow me inside—
I promise you, I'll take you on one wild and crazy ride.