A CLERIHEW FOR TED

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Note to self: Blog updates look so much prettier when there's a photo on them.

Note to self: Do not make mention of photos when you have to go look for one and you don't even know what you're looking for. (Queue U-2.)

Note to self: Don't spend the hour and a half you had to get a poem up — four lines, for crying out loud! — looking a photos, even if you haven't seen half of them before.

Okay. So Yesterday's (as it's just gone midnight-o-five here) NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a clerihew, a four line poem that names the subject in the first line. Which got me to thinking about what rhymes with Harper.

But then, looking at all those photos. And then these two. Of my beloved, coming into where I was doing something on the computer, much as I am now. Can you hear him saying, "Whaaaaat?" when I said something wifely and supportive like, "Forchrissake look at yourself! Don't touch anything!"

So why not a clerihew about Ted?

Ted Crosfield thinks no one can tell

where he's been hiding out; oh well,

he cannot understand from whence the dust

that covers him from head to toe comes from. He only knows it must.

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