Old Friends, New Sorrows

A drying pen writes words of solitude—
Blue ink dancing on the prematurely yellow paper.
The memories of forgotten feelings,
And the spring of Hope rising within.

Paging through an old notebook,
Opening letters that haven’t been sent,
Replying to people who no longer write,
Smoothly glistening over a sea of words.

Picking and choosing what to say
And how to express lucid thoughts
in blue ink on yellow paper.

The days pick and choose their times—
Calamities and joys, excitements and Sorrows.
And cruel fate turns the world on his ear
With her feminine charm.

Old friends and new sorrows
They sleep in every alley
Behind the perpetually locked doors
Our past surprising us with
Stealthy swiftness.

And a drying pen
Spreading blue ink on yellow paper
Does the talking for the walls.