A wayward song

Itchy fingers

need to write

not tap

at a keyboard,

a screen…

Need the yoga

of

wrist, hand, thought, mind

what moves

and what remains

still

what feels

and what words

fill

This page

Empty to touch and eye

This pen

Marking its empty sky

It unites

It expands

It forms

An untidy multitude

Within which

hums

a wayward song.

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2 thoughts on “A wayward song

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