Editing

As I edit my book

In a quiet little nook,

Here I stand,

Pen in hand.

I scribble away,

All the mistakes

It’s a small price to pay

I do what it takes

To make the perfect tale

And not one that is stale,

So an agent may not go berserk

At the sight of my work

Though I hate this task

I ease the boredom with music

To keep me from being sick

And put on a patient mask.

As I edit my book

In a quiet little nook,

Here I stand,

Pen in hand.