I trust these little verses I have penned
Will always give great pleasure
So, take this book and I wish
Happy moments you will treasure

My efforts seem quite trivial
With the paper and the pen
As they can be replaced
But not the words of women and men

For ink may fade and disappear
Return as if to dust
And nibs in turn, will fast succumb
To time ~and use~ and rust.

Paper is of matter
And in the end must perish
But the words of women and men in poetry
Remain all time to cherish.