
The piles of spines
spell my name,
and keys pitter-patter
steady spring rain,
supple stories blossoming
below white cliffs of conflict
an inky blue-green sea,
I dip my quill in its beauty,
flexible as bellflowers,
incandescent highlighters;
there’s hope for this wanna-be
paperback writer.
© khartless 2022, All Rights Reserved
D’Verse Poet’s Pub: Quadrille #148 – Papered Poems Craft 44 word quadrille’s using the word “paper.” Help us leave a paper trail.






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