Wisdom and Glory
By Emily
Published 28 September 2011
I stop.
There it is,
My Quill.
There it sits, jet black and beautiful,
In all its wisdom and glory.
It tells a story, my story,
It learns with me,
Grows with me.
As I lift it from its case, firecrackers seem to explode in my fingers.
As it weaves its words, I see myself in the blood red ink.
It's magic beyond all your imagination.
I love my Quill,
Jet Black and sleek.
It holds a secret, my secret
My Quill.
![EmilyOsborneNicholsonStreetPrimary.jpg](https://redroom-wagtail-prod.s3.amazonaws.com/media/dd/images/a9183edcf227877fe452c54052726c86.jpg)