To a Writer

Said the writer to the avid reader " I am happy you dislike my work"

Your joy pierces my soul

Although it is a my expense

The scorn mimics timeless cajole

So I chose to be happy nonetheless

 

I read and do not understand

The haughty words of your pen

I am merely a simple man

I stand a reader again and again

 

your words peppered with disdain

Written over ever so tersely

What option have I but to remain

And regret the remark enormously

 

Yee who write I shall abide

Contempt that abounds  put aside