I’m not selling anything
Like a crow or a raccoon
I collect things though
Shiny
Stranded
Odd ones
Pleasant to hold or look upon
Used
Obscure
Smooth or jagged
My walls are places
Some I’ve seen and I have not
I like to look
To imagine what
To sneak within
Wander through
I hear the beat of trees
Feel their pulse
As I pass by
My steps are light
They’re oh so slow
My eyes are poor
I need more time
What’s the rush
I might be late
But I’ll show
Maybe
I’m not selling anything
What have you got?🪶
I light a candle for the Story Man today
Long may his stories linger
In peace may his raven soar
I light a candle for the Story Man today
I leave notes in them
Who said I’m going to market
Words, I’ve heard, are free
My desk is very crowded
ideas images words reside
a hair’s breadth away
from the fire.
You should keep writing
even if it’s not for sale
you ought to keep trying
to paint the sky
with your dreams.
O Waterman
never I abandon
not for tweet
nor dragon
or message byte
O Pencil
fingers ignite
etching lightly
my paper history