And So I Write

During the time forgotten,

Every so often

The lady with the flowing grey hair dips her black feather in bottled ink,

And the stories on her parchment

Turn out to be true

And when she writes,

She weaves fate,

And changes destinies.

So after a thousand years,

When I find her unfinished parchment and the bottle of ink lying beside,

I pick up her aged feather,

The perturbed clouds line up overhead, and the waves curl back from the shore,

But nothing can stop me from writing on the parchment.

And so I write,

I write that the mother’s son will come back early today and join her for dinner,

And that summer will come alongside winter this time to create a season of their very own,

And when inspiration strikes, art will be created,

Then I write that everyone finds their soulmate,

For love shouldn’t go unnoticed,

And finally I write

That when you hold open the door for her yet again,

Today she will look back and smile.