To the Pen I haven’t touch,
Cursoring the clear white paper,
With the false black ink,
Imaging lovely illusions theater,
I may never write a fine poem again,
With Love as the theme unlikely regain.
With Love as the theme unlikely regain
To the Pen I haven’t touch,
Cursoring the clear white paper,
With the false black ink,
Imaging lovely illusions theater,
I may never write a fine poem again,
With Love as the theme unlikely regain.
Write Ally! Write! 
Maybe turning the pain into words and letting it flow through your pen into the paper will help the healing process 🙂
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Thanks Jade. Been trying. 😀
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Don’t give up!
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Thank you
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Memories, the ones we collect every time love enters the soul are the moments loving memories can flow from mind to pen. Find your light in the darkness and the ink will pour into you heart again
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