I have stumbled across a new passion: writing. It is proving to be insightful and rewarding.
Cold coastal waters surround the country side as a medieval castle rises out of the fog. You are welcome to come inside and warm yourself by the fire I hear whispered upon the wind. Watch as the candle flame flickers beside you as you find yourself drawn to pick up a dark volume on the table.
The wanton poet waited on a cue from beyond longing for the words to come.
The words used to come naturally, easily.
And as is now and forever the vellum is stained with the ancient ink.
The bygone poet wanted to build the best poem ever.
Now forgotten, the poetry lingers long inside the binding of the dark volume.
Come to me, open my pages, unfasten my bindings.
Read to me my words and release my script unknown to the world.
Surely it’ll be something wonderful.
The paper was left soaked long ago with primitive ink, the vocabulary of which is unknown to the rest. The parchment wasn’t sure what stories it would hold.
My words long to be set free.
My pages have life that matters.
The ghosts of my memories still live in between the pages.
My words sleep willing to awaken inside your mind.
Open my pages and read my forlorn words for they await the light of day.
© 2021 Laurie S Novak