Once upon a time not in a land far away,
not like olden days,
but more like today,
Lived a goddess of the oddest sort.
She didnt have potions, or spells, or wands,
She couldn't turn gooses into beautiful swans,
her powers were beyond that.
Powers yearned for by sorcerers and kings,
stretching farther than that of the wildest dreams.
She possessed words.
She possessed stories.
She could lift suicidal men into self-proclaimed glory.
She was a poet! And when armed with a pen,
She could do damage greater than 1000 men.
She was gifted from god.
She lifted her odds
and wrote her way through happiness and pain,
Through joys and gain.
She possessed a power to soothe and to tame.
But mainly to teach.
To reach those with her magic, with stories of eve.
Strories of old to make many believe.
Stories to grow,
Stories of wonder unseen and untold.
She could be bold! Without even a try!
But as fate would have it, one day she would die.
But her workings would stay and inspire much more.
From her pen she'd create a million poets times four.
And whats more,
They would kno all the lines of her pages,
And her story, my story, would go on for ages.