My first day on the job,

Arrived quarter till nine;

To the frowning Miss Fanny,

I'd be a ray of sunshine.

She peered over her glasses

At my color-streaked hair;

She was rethinking her bun,

I could tell by her stare. 

"Sort the shelves in the back

And empty this cart."

Was my first given task,

I was eager to start.

Upon seeing the bookcases,

My mouth gasped at the sight. 

I must restore order

To this library's plight. 

"Twas no rhyme or reason

To how the books were arranged;

The last librarian

Must have been quite deranged. 

I required inspiration,

I wanted to impress;

Wracked my brain

To make sense of this mess. 

Blue, yellow, and brown books

Mixed up without care;

This library no doubt

Was in need of my flair. 

Moving books and arranging

Was an arduous chore;

But books sorted by color,

Who wouldn't adore? 

I revealed to Miss Fanny,

The fruits of my day;

Her hand clutched her chest,

And she slowly backed away. 

Her eyes, how they narrowed,

Her face scrunched all screwy.

She screeched like a hawk,

"What about Dewey!"

I was kicked to the curb,

And so it did seem,

Dewey just wasn't ready,

For my color-coded scheme.