Pages flutter through my Mind
Like Auburn Autumn leaves
Caught up in that Fire-Golden breeze
And I am taken back
To a Time when literature
Was more than just a passing Memory
You, Old Monarch, stand tall
Under the aging Golden sun
Your sidewalk scattered with
Golden Pages from the old Giants
Whose wooden hearts make up your Life blood.
You, Old Monarch, you lend to me
Your knowledge of the World
Your wild Fantasy lands and
Heart-wrenching biographies
Speak, Old Monarch
We will lend you our Ears
As we dance around the Native Fire
Celebrating the Great Harvest of Knowledge
That you, yourself, have sown
Dance, Old Monarch
Leave your Stone walls
Let not your Spirit be contained
Dance beneath that Harvest moon
With those Autumn leaves under foot
Work your Century of Passion into frenzy
While the leaves are caught up
In that Ancient Fire-Golden breeze
