By the writer
who owns quill and ink,
writing down words,
about everything.
He takes measure not
of time any more,
fading away between pages
of history galore.
His fingers now gnarled
are broken to the quill,
work though they do,
writing still.
Ever his scribing,
known for his skill,
beyond the fame,
writing by will.
His own history written
page after page
with only what he writes
age after age.
His tale is in history,
weaved in with the rest,
a writer he'd be known,
one of the best.


-Inspired by the writer (read 4160)

,
"\",
"=\=",
"=\=",
"=\=",
"-\-"
\
;___E D Y N @~`,R O S E~_


Penned by my hand on the 21st of Valnuary, in the year 608 AF.