A Willy By Any Other Name

In youthful whimsy, I once had a plan,
To christen my own private, nameless man.
“Dick,” it would be, a name so discreet,
A secret whispered, never complete.

But fate, it seems, had other designs,
No grand pronouncement, no clever declines.
The years rolled onward, a memory faint,
Leaving only a blank, a forgotten paint.

Then came the moment, awkward and strange,
A need for a name, to shift and arrange.
“Mr. Thingumibob,” I stammered and blushed,
A silly moniker, my folly uncrushed.

So let this serve as a lesson, my friend,
Nicknames are fickle, they come to an end.
Embrace what it is, no need for charades,
Just accept its existence, unafraid.

“Come along now, Mr Thingumibob”

Lesson learned.