Ode To NaNoWriMo
And all through the site,
Posts went unanswered,
Not a panster this night.
Where had they all gone?
Had they been carried away?
Were they off writing?
Did not even one of them stay?
Cocking our ears we hear something amiss,
Peeking through windows with exquisite care,
We spied them all eager and fresh,
Pounding out words as fast as they dare.
Words flew to the screen in a flurry of hope,
Onward adverbs, passives, and that hopping head,
Their lips a mutter as they dare not think,
Let them leave no story for dead.
For when it is all done,
When the sands run out,
They will have told their tale,
And we will all shout.
We are writers now, is there no doubt?