The Writer sits-alone in Space

The Writer sits-along in Space
Writing Writing, on-on.
Past dawn, through dusk He spills his Soul
Until the page be done.

And when the Page be full and done
He laid aside-his Keys,
And looked around his cold dark room
Shuddering at the knees.

He smiled to himself and thought
"A lot was done today,"
Until he saw the open book
"I've got homework-O Great."

The hours passed in busy work
Equations, dates, page by page-
When at last the writer be done
He went straight to-His Dreams.