While I sat watching a weapon was made
A Runewarden made it, with steel that I gave
A weapon was made just for bardlets anew
A rapier to be bathed in song just for you

While I sat watching the smith's arm did strain
With each hammer blow you heard the steel's pain
He wrested a weapon from the metal so cold
To give to a young bard to cherish and hold

While I sat watching the steel grew whit-hot
I thought he was finished, but no he was not
He worked out the flaws in the weapon he made
"Give this to a young one" he smiled and bade

I thank you, Runewarden, and this is my poem
I am grateful that our city is the one you call home
Bards you and old salute you my friend
And with that my lowly thanks draws to an end

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Mayan, in the year 364 AF.