The End of the Line

When a poet reaches the end of the line the restless hand lies idle, the ink runs dry, watching the final rays of today's sunshine eternally on paper, seen only once by the eye The restless hand lies idle, the ink runs dry captured in the moment, will last for years, eternally on paper, seen only once by the eye stained by the etching of today's final tears Captured in the moment, will last for years the words still followed by a lingering smile, stained by the etching of today's final tears and even if it is only for the littlest while The words still followed by a lingering smile leaves just one inspired in another decade, and even if it is only for the littlest while some long lost, bygone images will never fade Leaves just one inspired in another decade read by damp eyes, desperately needing refrain, some long lost, bygone images will never fade a handwritten epitaph, so the memories remain Read by damp eyes, desperately needing refrain watching the final rays of today's sunshine, a handwritten epitaph, so the memories remain when a poet reaches the end of the line.