The Ink Is Calling

Suspended moments between the lines,
my mind now lost in space

Sublimated syntax buried deep,
my spirit free to race

A light unfiltered, the sound of horns,
my body starts to rise

The ink is calling, my pen in hand,
new words at last—arrive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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