Tap, tap, tap
I hold the pen on my left hand,
twirling it right and left
as I zone into wonderland.
I think and think and think,
and don't know what to write,
so I lean forward and, in a blink,
appears above me a bulb of light.
I let my pen glide on its own
as I go to get myself a drink,
and I come back to what I wish
was a paper packed full of ink.
YOU ARE READING
Escapril - A Collection Of Written Poetry
PoetryIn times of nothing but panic and existential crises, one can only do that which they truly desire. I desire nothing but serenity with a ting of freshly brewed coffee, that which I find in reading underrated works and writing ones of my own. Record...
