* * * * *
INK,
A Poem About Reflection
Once I had words,
They came to me
From some inner land.
I dreamed
They would become
A garden of hope
For you.
They were like a river's flow;
Forceful, fluid, and penetrating
Until they soaked the pages
Leaving me illegible.
The words I would
Have given to you
Became stuck to the tabletop
Where they looked
Small and sad.
I left them
For the waitress
To wash away
With blue window cleaner.
Even after they were purged
I could hear them say
That
It is vain to write words
If you are not willing to be them.
Thank you for visiting my blog and reading my poem, I hope it gives you something to think about and was a blessing to your day. To find more like it use the search box above or see the favorites in the Sidebar.
To see my books of poems visit my website, A.E. Dozat.com.
(c) Adron 11/9/17
