Laughing, this isn’t paper!

These wretched little scars I leave
Across these blank sheets of pulped up trees
with puny glory dreams of a sand grain
As if that mote could grow up to be a boulder
he leaned over, whispered volumes with his gaze
You are detachment

20161205
A quadrille, a poem of forty four. No less, no more
dVerse

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12 thoughts on “Laughing, this isn’t paper!

  1. One of my favourite quadrilles so far, Eric! You drew me in with those ‘wretched little scars I leave / Across these blank sheets of pulped up trees’ – so familiar – and then slew me with ‘he leaned over, whispered volumes with his gaze / You are detachment’.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. hmmmm this makes me think of the day when folks literally scratched their words upon the vellum with quill pens. They were indeed scarring the page. Today, with ball point pens, roller beads that glide out ink…we surely leave softer and less severe scars upon the page! 🙂

    Like

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