Storybook

There lived an old storyteller Grimes
At the corner of the road,
I used to go there sometimes
To listen to the stories he told.

He told me tales from before I was born
Weaving words into beautiful prose,
Lives of people known and unknown
And those whom we name heroes.

He had lived in this world as long as can be
Grown with the trees since they were sown,
Partaken in adventures across the sea
And travelled to lands unknown.

Old Grimes always had new stories to share
From his basket of rich experience,
Of wisdom, struggle, passion and care
Never sounding priggish for once.

There came a day old Grimes bid goodbye
Travelling to other worlds unknown,
Leaving behind his stories to remember
And pass on when he was gone.

I have kept them in my basket for now
Some have withered away with time,
And I need to share the rest of it somehow
Because it's part of what I am.

Can't talk at all like he did because
I'm no match for his gripping allure,
You have to read me well to understand
The tales in me, however obscure.

I never knew if they were real or false
But I want the world to learn,
Please take this basket before it's lost
Someone please pass them on.