He was an old friend of the critics,
A poet laureate well known,
Studied, he puzzled us all.
We had discussions over meter and meanings,
Over rhymings and linings...
He remained enigmatic.
He gave da Vinci's smile to his audience,
To one intending to unwind the mystery
That tickled, itched, and chafed reading men.
"The secret...," he coughed,
"The secret is...,
I have no secret...
No. No plan. I just wrote it
waiting for trains."
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
He was an old friend of the critics,
A poet laureate well known,
Studied, he puzzled us all.
We had discussions over meter and meanings,
Over rhymings and linings...
He remained enigmatic.
He gave da Vinci's smile to his audience,
To one intending to unwind the mystery
That tickled, itched, and chafed reading men.
"The secret...," he coughed,
"The secret is...,
I have no secret...
No. No plan. I just wrote it
waiting for trains."
There's your answer!
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