Pages turn, rustling pervades the air.

My words and my thoughts entertain.

I followed a dream others wouldn’t dare,

And now my name will remain.

 

Hours spent in pain and toil,

Misery and confusion blocked my way.

But through it all I did not recoil

From the dream that the world would hear what I have to say.

 

Writing may seem dull to those

Who do not appreciate a way with words

Which demonstrates a mastery of prose

To invoke a freedom as lofty as a birds.

 

To complete a novel

Is my ultimate task,

And I am willing to beg and grovel,

But never to hide beneath a mask.

 

The words will be my own.

The ideas I express will remain true.

To my content and thoughtful tone,

I will be loyal and follow through.