A Series of Poetry for the "Lord of the Rings"

More carts are rolling up the hill
And I'm sure there are more.
Even as I'm writing my will,
Someone's at the door.

Can a hobbit get his rest?
I'm sure they'd understand,
If they were a hobbit
With this burden in their hands.

I talked to my friend the wizard,
just the other day
I told him the frightening truth
Of why I must away.

"I feel so old, like butter over bread.
Thin and stretched for so many years,
I know that this feeling is not right.
Please bear in mind, I need a change
Or something to ease the time.
I wish to visit the mountains vast,
Before finding sweet, restful peace."