The Writer


To put a pen to paper and to write;
The peak of all the joy the world can bring.
To characters from unseen worlds invite,
To dance along the margins, and to sing.

Their stories threaded with needles of lead,
On snow-white flatlands quill and desk do kiss.
Of heart and mind and word come now to wed,
In parchment paper harmony and bliss.

Years pass and death does avid readers claim,
And on a dusty book room shelf words rot.
Untouched by eager hands and eyes aflame;
By daily passerby remembered not.

But those from whom the words arose with glee,
Recall those words to all eternity.

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