The moment a writer
Drops their pen:
The fall
Of the inky stem
Echoes
An unheard whelp.
Something dies;
A star in the night sky burns out;
A cloud framed like a smiley face
Thins into nothingness;
A life longing
For comfort
And the hugging warmth
Of a writer's words
To help them derive their worth
Remains
In its confused
And alienated
State
Of
Longing.
That's why
You should keep hurting paper
With ballpoint tips
And felt pen tips
And fingertips
To steer all those ships
To somewhere e a s t.
A/N: Guys, this is it for the book - I really do hope you enjoyed it and you loved the journey. If not, I hope at the very least this last poem sparked something in you - I really do.
Nonetheless, I appreciate you, for reading this, for voting on this, for commenting too, there's so many of you. However you know who you are - always there to read my new chapter as quickly as I update it and leaving sprinkles of pixie dust in the form of your comments that are sometimes as simple as a heart.
Thank you ♥
YOU ARE READING
Writer's Whispers
PoetryIt's only at night that you hear the faint whispers of the writer's pen trailing paper. [COMPLETED]
