I once heard a tale,
A story so quaint,
Of a little Sylvan girl,
And lucky she ain't.

You see, she was happy,
At least she appeared.
It could be far worse,
She could have a beard!

However, she told me,
One day, long ago.
She'd never heard poetry,
Ment for her ears, her soul.

Well, I took this to heart,
Learned a lesson that day.
Do whatever you can,
To brighten someone's day.

Now next time I see her,
I can tell her she lied.
For this is her poem,
Written with pride.

-Shorin Quicksilver


Penned by my hand on the 24th of Chronos, in the year 393 AF.