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The Pen Falls Silent.
The pen falls silent at
my touch, paper drifts
towards the floor,
and words, those windows
to the heart desert
this useless fool.
Reluctant lies the wastrel
pen, the paper left unloved.
And I just sit impotent yet,
an empty vessel stilled.
“Windows to the heart”
This is what poets do. So excellently well said. ~allets~
Thank you Stella, I wish I
Thank you Stella, I wish I could right as easily as I did when I had Harvey.