Upon the throne, where few had shone,
There I shall sit, and never quit,
Whether of stone, or feelings flown,
My words with wit, your hearts will hit.
In days so bright, or deep black night,
You'll find my lines, as old fine wines,
Pesky but right, with royal might,
Like soaring pines, and climbing vines.
Some may say, with clear dismay,
That I'm bighead, but I'm instead,
Starting today, what you all may,
Like and spread, as endless thread.
Write and share, do not just stare,
Your words are too, gorgeous and true,
But if you dare, approach my chair,
Good luck though, I'll bewitch you.
