You wield your sword with utmost ease
Myself, I wield a pen
You cry and leap forward, roaring
While I yawn and start again
A dragon looms from inky darkness
While my pen is scratching away
Sparkling scales like precious jewels
Breathing fire into the fray
That's more like it! Fantasy is good
But something's missing I think
So how about a princess or two
Crafted from finest ink
Waving my pen on the front line
I hear battling cries all around
The clash of steel upon steel rings
And there are people falling to ground
The battlefield was white with snow
Now there are scarlet splashes
I feel the weight of the enemy soldiers
As one of them into me crashes
We're getting there! It's waking up
Like a slumbering beast surprised
Breathing life into the page
I can see into their eyes
Fear is etched into the faces
As into the battle they go
Who shall I choose to live or die?
It's difficult for me to know
You see, I am a writer
And when my writing comes alive
I feel myself transported there
I'm lucky to survive
The depths of my ink-bound world
Know no boundaries, not ever
And whilst the sword of life shall rust
These swords will last forever!
I.Sparrow
For the writers.
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