The Poet. The Pen.

Drip… drip… drip…

Feel the ebb… and… flow…

Drip… drip… drip…

From the pen… so… slow…

Drip… drip… drop…

From the table, from the top

See the little river sliding

See it waver, see it stop.

As it pools. As it sinks.

Ever staining as it drinks.

Over parchment, see it gliding

from the palm where it’s residing

hear the scratching from the writing

as he thinks.

~j.d.schofield

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