An often visited theme, but ideal for the becalmed Poet
Paper, poet, mirror
In a quiet that’s beyond silence,
where thought stirs the air
less than a farewell wave or
infant down falling from a nest,
see I no image on paper white,
no reflection of my inner sight.
This mirror lies ready, to capture
not my likeness but that which I
hope will tumble from my mind,
making visible a stream of thought
that now hides and only I can see
until the flowing ink sets it free.