I used to write you know,
like really “write”
Used to spend entire days with my head buried in a book.
Letters for company,
Letters, spaces and full stops.
Full stops and breaths of air that turned them into a comma,
gentle gasps that allowed me to stain the paper again,
again and again until the final sigh.
The End.
Now I didn’t write a lot.
But the little I wrote, meant the world to me.
I felt as though I was an old english prince,
like Timothee in Little Women,
but with Jo’s heart though, atleast in here,
with the quill pens, tainted paper and ink.
Oh! Ink! the smell of it.
Oh, how I miss the beauty in writing!
beauty lost to witty punch lines
and double entendres.
I get that Haikus are a thing and
witty one liners are the money.
But given the chance, I would love to write again!
To stumble over sentences
and mumble over meanings,
I would love to write again.