She writes from the safety of her tower
Stone walls warmed by ever-shining sun
Only faint wisps of cloud diminish the blue sky.
The poet is an observer
Everything is visible from her vantage
No squabble is unheard
No creature unseen.
Every memory made outside wafts upward
As she records it with a strange patience:
Every note to write, yet infinite time for the task.
Not even by looking up can anyone spy her face
She is there, known to be present
But still invisible.
Her business is kept to herself and her tower,
She is not for others to witness or understand,
She is merely the documenter of all things,
The silence that watches but never intervenes.