The boss is under pressure to write a speech.
Joel thought so hard about the speech he nearly stripped his gears;
he had to write it about Bill, a worker of ten years.
And as the boss, Joel was inclined to made every word count;
but as each minute ticked away, he felt the pressure mount.
He put it off for many days but now he felt the weight;
in just ten hours he would have to stand there and orate.
He stood up at his desk and he espied the city light;
and then with pen between his lips, he returned to the write.
He phrased a few more accolades about Bill’s expertise;
but then the clock chimed midnight and his brain began to freeze.
He knew that Bill was quite the asset to the company;
yet Joel did not appreciate this thought insurgency.
So he looked on the desk and found an indigo stress ball;
he then unlocked the office door and paced within the hall.
He held the soother in his hand and with each nervous squeeze,
thought of a few more things to write, but still felt ill at ease.
He grit his teeth and felt the heaviness of passing time;
he sought to put a damper on each on-the-hour chime.
Then in the still of hours wee, the final line complete,
he hurried home to welcome dreams upon his own spreadsheet.
Joel labored under pressure but his speech was very great;
Bill’s ten year anniversary was one to celebrate.
Joel opened up with levity and finished like a sage,
in honor of the best salesman at Acme Valve and Gauge.
[Rhythm: 14] (Lines: 24)
Writer’s Cramp; January 23, 2012