In a quiet room with pen in hand, A writer dreams, a silent stand. They weave the world with words so bright, Turning dark into pure light. Some say they're mad, lost in thought, In worlds unknown, forever caught. Others find their tales too long, A boring tune, a tiresome song. But there are hearts they deeply touch, Who feel their words and love them much. Intrigued by lines that softly flow, In writer's world, they long to go. For in their madness lies a spark, A magic that can light…
31
