You are the quill and the writing desk,
the ink on the paper,
You are the marshmallows in my hot chocolate,
And the cookies in my milk,
You are the book in the hands,
and the bees in the hive

However, you are not the waves on the beach,
the apples in the orchard,
or the butter on the corn.
And you are certainly not Johnny Depp,
There is no way that you are Johnny Depp

It is possible that you are the nymph in the river, maybe even the pirate at Tortuga,
but it is not even possible that you are the Harry Potter Series.

And a quick look in the mirror will tell you that you are neither the worm of books,
nor the cat hiding under the bed.

It might interest you to know
what I happen to be.
I am the psychic in the world.

I also happen to be the melody of your soul,
the pages of a book turning in the wind,
the salt,
and the pasta.

I am also the jingle bells on Rudolph,
and the English Flag.

But don't worry. I am not the quill an the writing desk,
You are still the quill and the writing desk,
You will always be the quill and the writing desk,
not to mention the ink, that is somehow on this paper.