Written by: Timothy Brumley

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