I drew a blueprint, a design
Of idyllic functionality, to search for and to find,
The shape, the mold, to fit the image in my mind,
But second hand wood, knots and all,
Was all the lumber store could spare,
So I weighed the ups and downs,
Then pictured how they may fit, how they might be,
Not what I envisioned,
But effable to me
I perused the aisle
I sorted through the shelves
I didn’t see the first editions,
All that was left was those other books,
The reprints, the restored, and the translations you abhor,
Yet, representative of every genre, one for each an all,
Perhaps I’ll have a look,
Under the covers, just to take a peek,
To see what differences I may see,
Not what I pictured,
But effable to me
I went out for the night,
To see a band I loved,
They played the songs I came to hear,
Yet the singer could not replicate his recorded voice,
While upset at first, I drank and wait, succumbing to fate,
Giving each song a chance to elate,
And as time expired, the variations I could not see,
Not what I desired,
But effable to me
