Here is a fine poem from Maryellen Emery Grebin, which she kindly has allowed us to share.
Once upon a mid-night dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, a thought occurred my mind entrapping,
My interest gently sapping, I knew I needed something more,
«If only I'd a tome exciting, t'would never be a bore--
If only this and nothing more.»
Distinctly I recall the chore, trolling through another book store,
Viewing case upon case of uninspired reads,
Each book dismissed as lifeless, dull, and sour--
O me, this hour what I'd give for a heroic story to devour!
And then my gladness would never cease,
Perchance I would then at last be released from this staid monotony.
T'was mere accident I came upon it, swiftly did I move to buy it,
A new creation by Preston and Child, Masters of Suspense,
With treasure in hand, procured at reasonable expense,
I bid the bookseller good day and home I flew from thence.
Eagerly I sought to borrow, from my book surcease of sorrow,
So certain was I that this read would be intense.
Curled upon my chaise, I cracked the cover, began to appraise,
This adventurous new world of Gideon's Sword.
A character so smooth and smart-- my, but this saga had me floored--
Witness to murder at tender age, I couldn't help but turn page after page,
And when Dajkovic had him cornered, «Watch out!» I roared,
But t'was just a trick and nothing more.
When Eli Glinn from pages past hired Gideon, I was aghast--
Yet despite bad news, my hero hastily took charge.
Although Gideon had assistance from Orchid, Mindy, and old friend Tom,
The mission seemed doomed, and its uncertainty writ large.
Especially when nemesis Nodding Crane came to the fore,
Murders committed, Gideon's vengeance he swore.
Only this and nothing more.
At last I turned the final page, previous ennui happily assuaged,
I will not spoil, and any more plot I shan't give away.
Reader, beware, let my story serve as warning--
The novel Gideon's Sword will leave you in mourning,
Yearning for the next installment, Preston and Child, I am imploring--
Quoth the reader, «I want more!»
