Master's Feathered Quill
I
am
just
a white
feathered quill,
my master’s
only instrument.
I write every one
of his thoughts
until death lies still.
We've been together
through every sunrise
and rain of dreams.
In his hand I write
prose and poetry
in a metaphoric style,
Until he tires and rests
lays me down for a while.
Each moment is a holy pact
as verses become new glitters
of life---that we remain
bound together until
I run out of black ink.
For he's the main artist
and I… time’s quill.
Both of us have
lines to
sew.
We
are
a
D
U
E
T
//iii\\
Show Me Your Shape Contest
For Anthony Slausen
Resubmitted 2/18/2017
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