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 14 lines 91 words
Poem Written 3/10/21
Copyright © Greg Gaul | Year Posted 2021
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