This poem appeared in the March, 2019 edition of Bluestem Magazine.  You can find this and other great writing here:  http://bluestemmagazine.com/

For many years, L was my refuge,
when I grew tired of being the butt
of an endless stream of fatty jokes.

I could find some solace in H or F,
but L was a special place, where
so many things could be found

that I had never, ever considered,
much less paused to carefully view
from every possible known angle.

My L was older, born in 1903, and
it sat comfortably in the midst
Of its peers, hiding in plain sight.

L and all its cousins are now
long gone, donated or hauled away,
I wasn’t consulted, one day

it was simply gone, and nothing more
was said, and with it went my 14,989 friends
that lived in that volume of our OED.