He had a sponge for a mind,
soaking up learning like water.
He’s a genius his acquaintances bragged…
Their moons aglow, reflecting his light.
Problem was that Plato and Shakespeare
And Einstein were lost,
When the sponge was rung out.
But the learning’s still there,
And will flower again,
Like fields of corn
Soaked with a new season’s rain.
But a wind came up and blew
His now dry, feather-light
Sponge of a mind
To the Sahara.