To wondering ink, for digressive white;
faltering whispers pierce still. Floundering
in sepid lines. Treacherous for design,
and write is reaching, still strays in flight.
Form divides inky black, it's etched and torn,
crimped and moulded. 'Apple' bares new being.
So scratches mark brave page, still caught in plight.

For solemn sin reveres the sheet unturned;
reaping closed letters. Night closes quickly,
smoulders sleeping stooping prayers. Soon keys fly
into quick black type. Fluttering upon grand
strokes of fleeting binding. Grasped, now, some yet
lost inspiration, sweet and finding, succulent in diversion.