Out of Print

Within the book of wasted time a section must exist with articles in perfect rhyme of poets never kissed by lady luck or fortune’s son; (the gender matters not); of loves and favors never won; of passions never wrought. My chronicle would grace this page my love, if not for you as written by some useless sage for all the world to view. My dearest love, I here exalt that I am out of print. The presses, dear, were made to halt by orders, heaven sent.