a poem, a poem, my fountain pen for a poem!
Hop, Skip, Jump, Write
Words don’t form straight lines these days, they jump, skip, and hop around,
trying out each possibility
like shattered flecks of an enchanted broom,
rising up in some other place.
Some rudely demanding
shouting their names annoyingly,
others play hide-and-seek, refusing
to appear when summoned.
But when upon a golden page
they stop their motion and align,
In that final act of acceptance - their light worth every minute of chasing.
©2023 Noreen Braman
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