Words blend nicely into fame
Those of yesteryears talk with a lack of fear
Gone they are, words still flow
Found now across the world, antique musty shops, under old beds, book stops
I search for their precious skins of leather, covers most often lost,
I will buy at any cost
To scribe my words as they penned, oh to live just one single back when
Might I have the gift to scribe, perhaps as Biblical Luke’s hand did not hide
Sleep now, my pages at my bedside, to open eyes with twill in hand, and try try try again.
Sherry Healy©️
2023
