Novels

In my youth I'd often read The novels of other men That told the glorious deeds Of heroes, and their friends. But it wasn't long it seemed I'd read all the best ones Or, at least those so deemed by others that's been done. Then, I came upon that writer I consider to be the best Who writes of love, and fighters Of adventures, and of tests. Countless stories not etched On parchment or on scroll Nor drawn on hides stretched Or, even in legends told. These novels cause inspiration Or can steal it like no other They can inspire determination Or, cause brother to hate brother! They walk on your city streets Written on the fabric of time Etched in days, not on sheets And unfold in countless minds. They're in the library of life In the here and now they trod And written through great strife By that greatest author, God. Timothy I. Brumley