Inked

Inked prose poem

Photo by -Delphine –

I’m closing a chapter …a mere turning of pages you may call it. Pages read and again, mulled, cried and laughed over.

Bookmarked for life and hopelessly remembered, they’ll stay safe.
Ever too often there will be a pretty breeze to flip over buried encounters… and then the whiff of love, that fleeting pain and a sigh.

Loose odysseys reduced to charred words, stuck in binds they’ll stay, but ignored…denied existence in epilogues.

The unexplained will linger, more certain than those the ink did tame.

Till the breeze works its magic over the dog-eared ones…then there will be whirlwinds and then there will be flames.

There are pages to fill…there are fires to burn.

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