Can't come to grips with this digital age
What's wrong with ink upon a page
I miss the fibers, I miss the bleeds
A heavy pen that will not impede
A hard wood desk so the sounds are loud
the sound of the scribble like a roaring crowd
The scratches and swoops, a cursive r
soothing the pain and smoothing the scar
and if you start again on a fresh page of white
the old page remains to remind, as is life.
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