2 birds

I used to write in pen
Wherever I went,
Crossed out words,
Scribbled in margins,
Sloppy as a doctor.
I could read them again,
Bring them back to life,
If I changed my mind
And uncrumpled a page,
Balled up at the bottom
Of my purse in a rage.
Baby thoughts,
Smoothed and soothed,
Nurtured, revived,
Combined and spliced…
Sometimes I
Stitched something up
That was almost all right.
How’d that happen?
They go where they go,
These inklings,
Like birds risen from a fire,
Creating their own horizon.


The Daily Prompt: Inkling


5 responses to “Inklings

  1. You take my breath away with your words

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you both! And thanks to everyone who left a like! ❤


  3. Kind of like babies. How and where are yours on this Mother’s Day?


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