Journeys
The journal felt
So full in my hands
Heavy with
ink pens emptied
On pages….
It’s time to put
Away
My constant companion
And start
a new journey..
Old journals fill
Boxes under the bed
Collecting dust.
Throwing them away
Is not a option..
The pages hold
More than finished thoughts
They hold
The could of been novels
The would of been books
And should of been poetry..
Unfinished journeys
Tucked away
In ink blot thoughts
Today..
The new journal feels
So odd in my hands
Filled with
blank pages
Waiting for ink
To empty some pens
Into journeys..
Absolutely fabulous work… quite exceptional!
Really.. very nice.