A traveller to worlds of unvisited places
A winner of numerous unstarted races
A painter of touch-ups that could have been pictures
Designer of unproduced fittings and fixtures
Inventor of gadgets that didn’t make patent
Fine skills unfulfilled and fierce passions still latent
A cordon bleu chef feeds her kids what she cooks
An author of several unpublished books
A soul-drenched soprano who sings in the shower
An artist who hires out her craft by the hour
A teller of stories, a co-educator
A thinker, philosopher, poet, creator
Composer of lullabies heard just at home
Her life may stand still but her mind likes to roam
A writer of lines stuffed in crannies and nooks
An author of several unpublished books
A washer of dishes, a wiper of arses
A lister of wishes, a dropout from classes
When muse would have struck, she was clearing up muck
Or earning a buck, or so tired she got stuck
A riser at dawn, she’s a clock in- and out-er
She’s patched up and worn, she’s a serial self-doubter
That sleazeball at work says she’s losing her looks
An author of several unpublished books
She’d dance in the dusk but her neighbour’s abusive
Containerised living is hardly conducive
She’d love to be noticed but breaks are elusive
The one time she tried, the reply was conclusive
A writer of plotlines, deviser of hooks
An author of several unpublished books
A worker of overtime, Christmas is nearing
She’s toiling in noise, getting harder of hearing
Watch time grinding onwards, her dreams disappearing
Her subconscious critic is constantly jeering
She’s one of those stars whom our world overlooks
An author of several unpublished books
