Writing Books

When you write a book using the feather of a hen.
Dip it in ink or use a fountain pen.
You can write whole new worlds.

Like magic,fantasize.
With your pure imagination.
And before your eyes.

The words begin to come alive and dance.
Like a romance novel with a chance.
An adventure plot in advance.

Or a comedy with a glance.
It's like your pen holds power.
As beautiful as a freshly bloomed flower.

The smell of a new book is one you cannot resist.
With a new plot,a new cover.
And the memory of the plot in your mind persist.

It's like buying a brand new book with a cover.
Decorated by gold paint or a flower.
You will sit down and read day and night.

Travel into other worlds,take flight!
Maybe you could write a world where people fly.
With bird,angel wings in the sky.

Maybe you could write a world full of monsters and humans.
With a war,the one one big fall.
You could even write a romance.

With the love interest being tall.
Maybe you could write a loving character.
And their adventure taking a toll.

If you write another world and share it,you will not regret.
If you publish it and work on it.
You will have a world of your own.

With readers,young and grown.
You could write a fantasy novel with romance.
With fairies,succubi and advance.

Maybe the world will take place in the medieval era.
Or an entirely new world arise.
With angelic,blue skies.

When you write,time flies.
And you create incredible sights.
Take this story as an example.

Read the words in ink.
Process it,doesn't it make you think?
If I had to write a world of my own.

I would have a feather shaped throne.
Overtime,I have grown.
But the stories stay.

In my memories,never rotting away.
Even I have favorites of my own.
I keep them on bookshelves next to my throne.

The child inside my soul has grown.
Sitting with a book in my lap,on my throne.