Front matter, back matter
As we put my books in print

My brain begins to feel like
It is full of lint

Hubby is the patient one
He reminds me of a saint

He sits for hours pondering details
And does so without complaint

What about back cover content, he asks
The color of quotes and blurbs?

He shows me the thousands of choices
And I try not to think it’s absurd

But we finally get it together
He told me it could be done

My book is going to look perfect
And delirious hubby will say it was fun

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