Sleek and slender, soft and hollow Needle legged quill,
Boasts its white and fabric tines, its glorious echoing tale.
“I am the dagger of betrayal, the albatross of life
The intimacy of Romio – Juliet, the ancient Troy’s strife
The prophecy of Oedipus, the valiance of lord Rama
It’s me which sledged Ozymandias from glory to his calm”
But now, brewing have all ended. A few last drops preserved.
An aged quill with wisp around, its supple back now murfed.
A fading feather now confers its final words to you-
“The dryness of my tip speaks not but my footsteps do.”