With words you made
Sweet daisy chains.
Wondrous stories
You engraved on paper.
Some say your life was tedious,
Colourless and dull.
But you fought the world
With your sword of wit.
You created treasure,
A milliard gold pages.
Sitting at your desk
You swished your magic wand.
You danced among dreams,
Strolled by the sea,
Saw ghosts in the air
And painted them with ink.
I wish death had spared you,
I do need more tales
In which things happen
In the heart, in the mind.
If only you had known
How great you would become
When you walked heartbroken
Down the streets of Bath.
|
Author Notes
A poem written for Jane Austen, one of the most famous English novelists of all time.
|
|
