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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

A Quiet March


Knight

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On a march down a long winding road,

I strode on, wandering from my abode,

Moving forth to a well-known place,

To find her well-known face.

 

Mile after mile I pressed on,

And soon was the morning gone,

And after that, the midday passed by,

And very soon, the sunlight began to die.

 

But this long walk was quite worth it,

For I would see her in a short bit,

I'd gaze into her eyes, and be amazed,

And stand there, shaken and dazed.

 

Because in those eyes is a beautiful soul,

Quite pure, sweet, and ever so whole,

And in those eyes is what I need,

All of that for which I'd bleed.

 

I'd die for her, I know this to be,

But I'd rather live for her, so again I may see,

Her beautiful eyes, and that pretty face,

And to once again, know her wonderful grace.

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Sighs wistfully

 

I think I was born a thousand years too late - I have the heart of a Knight-Errant, in the society of cynicism.

 

Welcome back after a long absence to the Pen, Knight. And thank you for rekindling the magic of Romanticism for a moment.

 

-Peredhil TBT

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