Tribute to Authors Great

When I am sitting all alone, I harken
To the silence; the breath of time.
I tilt my head and listen,
As the pattern of this quiet makes a rhyme.

The stillness of an autumn even,
Broken; peopled with the voices of the dead.
They are the spirits sublime,
The ghosts of Great Authors I have read.

Then in the turmoil of my troubled mind
some spark ignites, my brain's alight!
The day shines throught this murk of muddle
A sudden good idea, such a glorious sight

And who have I to thank for this -
Miricle, through much labour, much strife?
Just you my friends, who sit in silence
By my side each night in awesome life.

Though I would not presume to eaqual
The talent, that from each sprit shines.
I am only greatful, some measure of your light
Into my humble mind does filter, through my lines.

As I pen whichever piece of prose or verse
In awe do I look to those of greater worth.
And always will I seek with questing mind,
The power such spirits conjour forth.