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Poem

My pen pleads 

Lonely nights offer moments of silence
and one dish suppers where candlelight seems a waste
Seated with pen in hand, I smooth the ruffles beneath
as if that will help the words flow

Upon closer inspection I find
fancy patterns on the dining room tablecloth
mimic the movements of my hand,
layered one atop another, calling on each to oblige

Crossing lines, intersecting at pre-destined points,
repeating in harmony with one another
as my thoughts gather in the opaque vastness
of this rectangular parchment staring at me 

Moving in sync with swirling ridges on the corners
and scribbled etchings along borders, 
the tip follows fantasies of a mind in a dream state,
drawling each curve in my own random design

Cartoonish figures joust with balloon dragons
amidst the sunflower faces, some smiling, some not
on cursive stems sprouting from geometric signals
and sharp pointed periods ending ideas 

Fabric folds neatly collect the blotches of spilled ink
seeping slowly through the cloth
like raindrops on a leaf following the veins
in an abstract yet confined flow

To the blurred eye sits nonsense,
a collection of nothing on a vast white sheet
dancing like uneven feet on a rounded floor
of no particular meaning or feature

Yet to me, my penned doodling calls loudly,
even in the darkness of lost words, these patterns, 
as is everything found filling me is her,
and my pen pleads in heart shaped longings

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