Her Quest She dons a suit of armor
A metal plate against her chest
Swearing to fight to win his love
As she valiantly begins her quest
She brings with her no noble steed
Nor a weapon in a sheath
She has no cry in which to call
Nor golden treasures for her to seek
Her words are her courage now
Her pen, her sword to wield
As she marches bravely into battle
Upon a tattered parchment field
She longs for a sweet victory
The outcome shall be known in time
As she fights to win his love
With an army of prose and rhyme
~THE FLOWING PEN~
5-29-05
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