I own everything written in this poem; using this without permission or claiming this as your own is plagiarism and, as I understand it, a copyright violation.
The Lady fair upon her steed,
Through the books she hoards to read,
Following exposition's lead,
She enters in to write.
An ink-dipped quill she wields with might—
It is strong yet feather-light
She keeps it close and holds it tight
For it leads her where it will.
The fiction-air gives her a chill
Yet strong and sure she remains still
Though fear makes her grip hard her quill
Through murky paths of Story.
Pressing on toward ending glory,
She fights her way through mean and gory.
Almost through the land of lore, she
Spots brawling Climax ahead.
The Lady is overcome with dread
But fights onward while Story's read
And when she's killed the monster dead
Dénouement comes to give respite
Our Lady greets him with delight
Knowing it's love at first sight
And a happy ending bright
Means from the plot they both are freed.
But the Lady may fight yet again—
A question mark graces "THE END?"