Leaving Ink Behind …
when i leave my ink behind, ever searching for slivers of hope in the shape of a rhyme,
i breathe, i live, feeling sorrow slip through my fingers,
because scribbling for you is where the peace lies, the peace so elusive to find … …
kindred spirits … …
the whispers of fate,
the slight tugging of destiny,
the murmurs of truth,
effortlessly caress desolate hearts when kindred spirits meet.
a whisper here, a nudge there, a fragile breeze weaves the magic of dreams yet to be dreamed, of tomorrows yet to be savoured, of gentleness yet to be felt.
words may only express a scintilla of feelings kept carefully wrapped beneath layers of emotion,
those that remain unspoken envelope the thirsty heart yearning for union.
and then all at once,
the rustling of the leaves,
the touch of the breeze,
the swaying of the grass,
the coaxing of time,
coalesce,
into one being …
you …
Scribbled Verse 