I take a pen and a paper try to put some words in
array to make sense and to add a little more good,
I scribble every ruminating thought.
Every now and then I do it I find something some concuss
driving my hand to do so and a rush of words jot down on paper,
I feel too many soul tales onerous to be written
but only one thrives and endows the dry soul with vigour,
that’s runic and dainty about writing.