Ink Well's Fall

Scritch, Scratch, Scrape

Drip, drip


My inkwell has spilled again.

First time?

'Fraid not.

I will start again, and write some more.

My story still untold

Writing, writhing!

'till the moon wanes and the night grows old.

How wonderful the world must be!

How glorious it seems!

All walk about in air and light,

while still at home stays little old me.

But, best to hide away

complaining gets me nowhere

speaking to no-one

retreating to my lair,

and write again, and again, and again I will.

Sritch, scratch, scrape

Drip, drip, and sometimes fateful, hateful spill.

But, But!, how glorious the world must be.

How glorious it must....


The End

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