This is a tale of long ago
I was a small boy new to this
Tedious life that is a show
The only thing inside was bliss,
Oh, Mistress, I held that pencil with a fist

I took those thoughts that run away
pulled them into the real world
I imagined a chicken named earl
In recess, I jotted notes on a pad with a twirl
for an assignment, my thoughts couldn't stay

It poured out my hand like neverland
my hand as stable as Afghanistan
The chicken had a mind of his own
and Earl made that page his home

I knew from that day on
Writer was a part of my identity's lexicon