This one goes out to the one I love

I've written plenty of Limericks this year about other people, real and fictitious, living and dead. I suppose it's one way of trying to make sense out of other people - sifting the stream of life for the uncommon kernel of universal truth. But I spent all morning pulling curly ones and black sludge out of the shower drain (not mine own), and so now I think I've earned this moment of self-indulgence. (Don't worry, I'll keep it brief.)

"The Granola Poet"
There's a poet inspired by Elling
A writer with adequate spelling
      He leaves lyrical notes
      In boxes of oats
And where he'll strike next there's no telling