Death of the Storyteller

A lone tear on a solemn face
But do not mourn for I never leave
Ideas hidden under my hat
Are yours to discover now
yours to ignite
And bring to life
Like the hidden ring in my breast pocket
A lover on bended knee
New love, new life
Springs forth from all nature
As seasons turn and summer suns fade
Autumn shades and fallen leaves
Bring winter snows
And once more spring sun will soften the ground
New shoots, new flowers, new colours spark to life
The lone tear falls and lips will tilt upwards
The lover receives a yes
The ring revealed
The ideas once buried
Germinate, sprout, and words fill pages
For life does not end nor ideas, nor seasons
Each one begins anew with the turning of the tides
Each story a word followed by another
A smile, a character
A new adventure for readers
The pin stripe suit becomes armour
Knights battling
Or a fancy dress – princess dancing
Or a set of stripes on a tigers back

Death of the Storyteller

Soft downy fur stroked by the hand of love
A season of change
And a new world of stories
For the hat has fallen
But into new hands