Ode to Serendipity

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Oh to the

Serendipity

Of things

To the zippity-do-da

Of life itself

To the almost but

Not quite eternal flame

Of happenstance

It used to be

People would be killed

For donning purple robes

As Jean Louis had only

Just finished explaining
To me that morning
Over strong French Roast

And there I was

Standing online

At the Staples store

When this woman

Behind handed me the 

Purplemost pen

It seems we shared

An uncommon name

After a fashion

And quite miraculously

It enabled me to

To compose this poem

In haec verba

Not even yet

Outside the store

Ere these purplemost words

Were fully formed