Intriguing


These are my inky deeds, 
they grow like weeds.

My paper is saturated with every
word I’ve written,
my pockets are over flowing
with my thoughts.

My poetry can build a river,
it’s bank’s green and mossy,
the water’s talk telling their stories.

Each journey becomes a ink smear,
each footstep, a new memory,
each paper is a bed full of intrigue,
each word is a trail for all to follow.

It’s a mystery to me
what I will write next.
Though I never fail
to share what intrigues me.

Advertisements