'Twas a meeting of happenstance,
Unpublished poet and the page.
Whose affair began at first glance,
Enamored, as actor to stage.

Together, they would greet the dawn,
Just one with bleary, bloodshot eyes.
Penned phrases not agreed upon,
Syllables, stanzas thrice revised.

Alas, one crumpled, on the floor,
Rolled to rest upon creaky plank,
Where poet paced, window to door,
Left bereft, page and poet blank.