A Poet I Found

In a quiet corner of the lawn His forehead dripping sweat Who’s that man sitting alone? Must be the lonely poet! From a distance what I could surmise Was this man was drowned in thought, Not minding the fleas and flies That around him did freely cavort! Was it disappointment I saw on his face? Not having any luck with the words today, So hiding in this corner for a quiet recess To reflect and have them in his head replay! He was swaying a little from one side to the other I presumed by the tides that swept his inside But as I approached him close, Oh brother, He was plain snoring and no poet on a hunting ride!