I wandered a path, lost in routine,
When She appeared - like vision, like dream.
And I, a mere mortal, stood in her gleam-
And she smiled, an uneasy shy beam,
Too humble to boast, too pure to seem mean.
Awestruck and dazed, I fumbled and found
A scroll.. well, a scrap - but destined for fame.
Trembling, I offered it and screamed aloud -
Hoping her autograph would prove me devout.
Her fingers danced in a blur of divine -
Oh the loops and swirls, how they did shine!
She scribbled 'F.R' as if it were ordained -
An illegible marvel - a mystery again.
In her silence - where words dare not go,
The crickets took up their choir in show.
Their melody broke air, sharp and askew -
As I, in my loud song praised her anew,
Oblivious to scene, or what it might mean.
And I clutched that scroll to my chest,
An artifact in yellow ink, truly blessed,
While the world around me slowly digressed.

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Ero, in the year 953 AF.