The line of black leads to my pen
Swirls and twirls
Lines straight and curved
With skips and dots
Whips and dips
The line of black started clean and leaned
Then grew apart
Lost its form
And dug deeper
Into the paper
The line of black stops at the bottom
The final dot sticks its landing
Ending the train of thought
That flowed from
Brain to page
Sometimes the act of writing amazes me and I can't help but observe it with wonder.