He was the mayor of Mulberry West,
small city government--he did it best.
His motivation could never stand still,
Mayor Cloud William, his friends called him Will.
One day Cloud William was governing fine,
when with some rhythm he thought of a line.
That line then morphed into poetic shape,
William had found a delightful escape.
He would write poems after giving a talk,
his reelection was merely cakewalk.
Then an idea sparked like steel striking flint,
Cloud William vowed he would see poems in print.
“How do I go about publishing, though?
Would I be accepted, or get a veto?”
Some poems political, some poems of life,
others so intense they cut like a knife.
So he sent manuscripts out in the mail,
hoping his creative poems would prevail.
But he was turned down again and again--
these are the times that try very good men.
Yet he continued to push like a ram,
marketing rhythm, the flow of iamb.
Then when he opened a letter one day,
mayor Cloud William shone like a sunray.
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