The Alchemists Shelf
That old alchemist, he was wicked smart,
He knew transmutation science by heart!
What he didn't know he'd go and hire,
After a promise the help would not tire.
A keeper of numbers was brought in to store,
All the mounds of gold, more, and more, and more.
The poor bookkeeper kept counting all the shiney stones,
Until there was nothing left of him but old grey bones.
(c) All images and photographs, unless otherwise specified, are created and owned by me.
(c) Victor Wiebe
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Love the poem, WW. Would be great to turn things into gold. 😊
Thank you! I think it add a little bit of character to an otherwise simple photo.
haha! Howdy sir wwwiebe! I think there is a moral to this story! Great writing.