For I am a peddler of words lost in space and time filling in gaps of insignificance to outright the inconceivable.

When once the itch of literature comes over a man, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen. But if you have not a pen, I suppose you must scratch any way you can. ~Samuel Lover, Handy Andy, 1842

Sunday, August 18, 2013

It all started with a Lollipop

Sometimes,
she need be reminded of this childlike ambition I once had
in outweighing the mortal blows of reality
that every stride of prick and puncture
will do justice to a self-fulfilling achievement
yearned since the stealing of her innocence
that by the cold sweat of her brows
future contentment shall materialize
in the palms of her hand
like a wishing feather forever rested
to the swaying of the winds.

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