THE GIFT

Like days of yore

And nights before,

And Daniel of the dreams,

Of message stick meanings,

For as a storyteller;

And interpreter,

I now abound with gusto,

Being a conveyor of words,

A scribe of different importance,

That more or less I write,

Onto leaf's of books.

As reseacher,

Historian,

Spender of countless hours,

From first hoot of owl

And first dawning of sky,

My hours of achievement

Are somewhat different to most.

Night sounds be it so,

Inspirational music to thine,

And like the days of yore

And nights before,

And Daniel of the dreams,

Conveyor of many words,

Where ink from well

Is instrument of gifting,

A sonnet,

A poem,

Or even a few words,

Can never tell which;

When the words begin to flow

For this message teller so......