Lost Thoughts

blurb #2

Creative inspiration never beckons to a call
We pick up the phone, but don’t have its number
Like a soft wind on which we lay our pens
As the ink gets swept away by the current
 
And so we wait for the call
How ever long it may be
We’ll wait until we fall

Thanks brother :)

Quil

Quil

11a

You have a way with words...

Hahah thanks brother means a lot! and thank you for viewing my poetry, when i started putting my stuff on this website i never thought i'd get noticed, so many nice people here! your comments makes this unreal brother!

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