Many tell of superb tales;
Written, read by many.
From grim to wondrous fairytales;
Fictitious or uncanny.
Stories told or read alone;
They pull us towards a world.
Conceived of ideas stemming forth,
From minds still deemed unknown.
Though we know the author’s name,
Or pseudonym, if any.
We only know the words they chose,
To tell their unique stories.
There is a lesson here, indeed;
Correction: “Slice of Life”.
The words they write, and which we read;
Only echoes from a mind.
Bedsforth 