Books and Men

I sit upon my chair
and wait for ages
for a pleasant book
with millions of pages.
O! what pleasure books bring
they make me forget whats wrong
and in fanciful splendor they carry
me away in arms so strong.
But a good book is tough to discover
you search and turn out fruitless
for most books are nothing but nonsense
their morals shamefully rootless.
Occasionally a helpful soul
gives me a tip or two
and oh, such joy has come from that
my smile is long overdue.
And all the while I am still here waiting
pausing and checking and wasting time
oh I shall never find a book here
I do nothing but try to rhyme.