Quill

Pen the archaic writer, once mightier than the sword Suffers ignominy of disuse, since man succumbed to keyboard Pen on paper is now derelict, broken is the pair’s link With penning of thoughts long gone, dried up the once flowing ink. I still crave for a smooth pen to take me on an inky write Form words on paper neatly lined, dancing on crispy white Jot in blue random rumblings, what mind wants to craft A piece of thought the heart designs, a poem or love’s first draft, To dip the nib in the pot of ink and feel the throb of quill, Go once more on a rolling ride, get back yesteryears’ thrill.