Joy

It gives me joy to make you cry,
it sounds strange but I’ll tell you why.
My words send your spirit soaring,
from you happiness is pouring.

Elatedly I work some more,
seeking laughter that makes you roar.
For there is no greater reward,
which a writer could surely hoard.

It gives me joy to see those tears,
reading my work makes you so dear.
A writer seeks an audience,
appreciation lends credence.

So write I must and write I will,
typing from dusk to dawn until,
I can elicit no more tears,
and tears and laughter turn to jeers.