by John Swain

I will write all to you forever
with a pen of clear ink water
because you are permanent,
alone and undreamt in the flesh.
I write the same book again
to make the passing world real,
but loose pages catch the trees
like dull ornaments of infancy.
Ages of rain efface our rooms
like the inscription on a grave
long abandoned to the forest,
I will chisel again at the stone.

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1 Response to Inscription

  1. This would be a good preface to a story or poem.
    It has the correct element of intrigue, which is far better than
    putting this down and not looking at it, for it’s over…
    To me, this story needs telling! :-))

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