Golden Quill Quest

White doves sit on our window sill One ponders peace, eternal will Countless dreams does it now fulfill Cradled in hope's hands, not to spill Dullards seek weak concepts to kill Artists think up ideas that thrill Extra effort helps climb the hill Sometimes fail, not for lack of skill To taste again a bitter pill We all know too well this droll drill Will wisdom wield the golden quill Strike solid blows for good, not ill Once finally fed and had its fill Oh soulful sigh, fate's clock stops still Monorhyme Contest William Kekaula Sponsor Poem Written 3/10/21