The stars floated by
The pale orb in the sky
As the poet and I
Watched the sunset from high
Up on the hill
Where we waited until
After looking our fill
We took up our quill
The poet was shaking
My emotions were quaking
From the rhymes we were making
As the night's moon was waking
But the rest of the night
As we waited for light
From that incredible height
Our souls took to flight
And in total accord
We brandished our sword
The mighty pen roared
And vanquished the horde
Of words so unfit
Without rhyme or wit
Killed off bit by bit
'Til the story was writ
And then at the morn
The words seemed forlorn
So tattered and worn
But a poem was born
As we gazed at the sky
With the sun rising high
We each gave a sigh
The poet and I.