words are just wonders
one
can release,
but only one's pen
could ever crease
into the safety
of a poem's lease.
so this
is
a
note
to
a
pen.
"
Oh,
draw
Your line
And never
Look back
From those
inked words
that flow
from
your
clack
and
let
them
flow
into
sharp
flack.
or maybe
give words
that proper,
warm embrace
which can get
lullabies fall
into disgrace.
or maybe just
draw a perfect
dark contour
playing with
edges that
make sights
demure...
add dots
and spots
on plain
white
paper,
like
living
knots
in the
hands
of a
draper.
pour
some
more
ink
on
me.
"
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 5:29 AM UTC
words are just wonders
one
can release,
but only one's pen
could ever crease
into the safety
of a poem's lease.
so this
is
a
note
to
a
pen.
"
Oh,
draw
Your line
And never
Look back
From those
inked words
that flow
from
your
clack
and
let
them
flow
into
sharp
flack.
or maybe
give words
that proper,
warm embrace
which can get
lullabies fall
into disgrace.
or maybe just
draw a perfect
dark contour
playing with
edges that
make sights
demure...
add dots
and spots
on plain
white
paper,
like
living
knots
in the
hands
of a
draper.
pour
some
more
ink
on
me.
"
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