The gold shines bright upon the throne;
The King and Queen by all are known.
All fame is given from their hand
Throughout the wide and fertile land
But they cannot do this alone.

The quill she cuts, the knife she hones,
On parchment pounced with powdered bone,
A scribe performs her magic and
The gold shines bright.

With canine tooth and river stone
The luster and the shine is grown
To rival any burning brand
And match the royal words so grand
Through which esteem of deeds is shown:
The gold shines bright!

Written October 8, 2012 for my wife and all other under-appreciated scribes.

How fair the moon whose light shines true;
She climbs aloft and then peers through
The window high above my bed
To lay a hand upon my head
And with her touch my soul renew.

The hours when we may meet are few;
I listen as she whispers to
Remember after she has fled
How fair the moon.

‘Neath burning sun I paid my due,
With sword in hand the foe I slew
And from a hundred cuts I bled
That I might arms and armor shed
And see my love in midnight blue –
How fair the moon!

Written in late September, 2012, inspired by HRM Elisenda de Luna of Meridies