Hear the wind call
Hear its gentle breeze
Hear the sorrows cry
Scattered forgotten seeds
Endless words written
Lines upon lines
Long now forgotten
Rhyme within rhyme
In the nothingness
that once existed when
I drop a bit of ink
and close my mind til then
A scrivener I'm not
Nor shall I ever be
A wanton wayward soul
Trapped betwixt and between
3 comments:
love.
love it also. excellent!
A scrivener you are not. But something so much more. So much more.
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