Historical Novel

In the bottom of the glass
Underneath imported lager
Slowly bloomed
A crimson rose
Shining proudly
Through the darkness
I was working on a book
An historical romance
Emerging as though
Through a fog
From one cover
To the other
So, we write it
How we hear it
How we hear is
How we breathe it
How we breathe it
So we write it
Never trying to appease
That’s the way that nature made us
Don’t ask why
It’s no one’s business
Who’s to argue or to judge?
There the sky was wide and blue
There was such abundant fiction
How I pulled the strings of fate
To unravel my own story
How I dived into the past
And equipped all of my heroes
For adventure on the way
And I fancied me their captain
So, we write it
How we hear it
How we hear is
How we breathe it
How we breathe it
So we write it
Never trying to appease
That’s the way that nature made us
Don’t ask why
It’s no one’s business
Who’s to argue or to judge?
Fiction isn’t just a trick
And one thought is not sufficient
For completion of my book
'Til my epilogue be written
May the crimson of the rose
If it’s not completely faded
Be my final testament
Spending words I save
Like pennies
So, we write it
How we hear it
How we hear is
How we breathe it