My protaganist liked pretty paper and ink;
she purchased purple paper and pens in pink.
Poppy was a poet and a pauper to boot –
and she prayed that her poems would bring in loot.
She petitioned the publisher she prized the most
by popping her precious poems in the post.
The publisher perused the pages from Poppy
but he refused to print a single copy,
pronouncing it was pointless to produce
a paperback that served no proper use.
Poor Poppy had penned her poems in pink,
and purple paper swallows up that shade of ink;
perhaps she hadn’t pegged that the sheets appeared blank,
but the publisher perceived it as a petty prank.
©Jane Paterson Basil