It is in this solitary place I write
how I fill each and every night
all alone with my quill in hand
in this quest to one day understand
While I again smooth the page
again get in touch with another age
in touch with voices of the past
hoping to ensure these lines will last
Never daring to wonder why
my ink never seems to dry
always so fresh and wet
despite any attempts to forget
All these betrayals and scorns
wilted petals with honed thorns
seem once more to then await
as I again now pen my fate
For this is where I now stay
penning poetic words to say
craft these indelible lines
so I can lay out my designs
Your ink doesn’t dry because everything I’ve read so far ate the things that we all need to say, you just seem to be the person brave enough to say them.
I saw your new posts here, a few days ago…
Makes my heart glad to once more
hear the music of you…
🙂
Thanks Cipher…