My Ink Blot Flew Away
Antique fountain pens, I love;
magic wands of the finest make.
I love to collect and repair these
treasures, for my own creative
fantasies...
For my poetry, oh, how they bleed;
my sketch books are filled with
expressive zest;
essence of my imagination,
dreamscapes conjured during
REM moments.
Not all of my little dots and blots,
are contained in sketchbooks and journals;
sadly, some have escaped.
One day as I sat sketching,
a paper-fiber snagged my nib.
It spat out ink, just a blot
but, imagine how I felt when,
suddenly, like Tinkerbell,
it flew away!
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