The Precious Poem by Chai Amos

Without this, little can I accomplish,
My many attempts are futile as if they were childish,
My love for written word stands, but downing a page is a challenge,
My inking tool is unable to mark, as it suffers a change.

Williamson, my mate has a worse condition,
He's unable to read, not even the daily edition,
His kinsmen fears he's insane,
For him they bother me with scarce knowledge on mine,
He's saved by the defence I shower for him,
All because I know his mind isn't slim.

Wilson, a renowned reader nurses a condition hard to fathom,
They say he's been away from class for a month with Tom,
This is his friend, but he give little account of the man,
Thus I conclude he nurses a bad spirit which's very funny,
This man has even been writing with the dailies,
Though young, he makes them as bright as lillies,
The conclusion of his condtion- lack of the precious!