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MY PEN FLIES |
My Pen flies
I ask it not, I ask it not
The words strong and free
Stumbling like the ugly moth
I hear the winds at my wake
Beckoning with voices sweet
Turning the Sands of my Fate
Tuning to the sounds of my Beat
I watch for the angels and muses at play
The dazzle and enchantment of others
Combs of shell and pearls in their hair
And men and mortals for their hunger
I feel the giants of ancient lore
The gargoyles and the faeries
The tales of forgotten shores
The meadows and the leas
I reach for the magic of dreams
For the fables spun in gold
For the wicked and the good, it seems
For the warm and the cold
And again, my pen all but fly
I ask it not, I ask it not
But hinder me not as I try
To write, to write, to write
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| 28th January 1997 | | |
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