Story-ing

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Symphony No. 40, I

Up in the tallestest corner of the fartherest tree,
the popinjay finally found what he’d been destined for.
After he put down his bags into a tottering pile,
he conjured a handkerchief to dust the smoothest branch
and sat down cross-legged, prepared to gaze enraptured.
‘Ah, but what could compare, you awesomest and fair!’,
he eventually ventured in faint and trembful whispers.
‘I humbly beg your leave in worshipy words to conceive
to tell of your perfection! The world must pay attention!’
Hope in his beady eyes, he awaited the answer and,
receiving no demur, sprung his travelled bags open.
Out came a dainty table ready with silkest cover,
on which he then assorted, from smallest to the sharpest,
quills, styluses and inks, all polished to a sparkle.
He cocked his head a-side to best view the arrangement,
and in a priding voice spoke again to his wonder,
‘Always for you in my quest I have looked for the worthest.
So long I have pined, and dreamed, and thought what to bring!
And now we finally, now we begin! I vow, I get maudlin!’