The Song She Wrote for Herself

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You built a tower seven stories high

With a dungeon seven miles deep

Never has the sunlight troubled your eyes

Nor the moonlight troubled your sleep.

 

Your rooms are filled with the finest of finds

Relics from each era and age

Books writ with wit by the finest of minds

Your name scrawled on every page.

 

You wrote your song, seven stanzas too long

You sang in a voice sweet and clear

Now down in your dungeon, seven miles deep

You’re the only old soul left to hear.