the black ink flows smoothly

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the black ink flows smoothly

in between the faded blue lines

running horizontally across the page




creating a jumble of letters

a mass of words is formed

speckled all over the crisp paper

individually these words are small


the only rosebud that has not yet started to bloom

its alabaster petals held tightly together

emotions without meaning

actions without a function

articles with no noun to attach to

but as my hand moves steadily across the page

the words string together

creating a surge of memories


and stories


acting as catalysts

for when the last rose finally blooms

its beauty stands out among the rest

the dark green stems and thorns protecting it

they weave together

making you feel any emotion from pain to happiness

not much is more powerful

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