My Ink Is Drying Up

My ink is drying up and my pen no longer writes smooth                                                This just can't happen now, to many thoughts I will loose                                      Fading away this old body, still more to write, to be heard                                         My memories and precious images are becoming a bit blurred

My hand shakes, the paper gets wrinkled as I write so fast                                                But I must write quickly while the thoughts in there still last                                       Some verses, as I write I laugh, often things were very funny                                        Then the sad things, my tears make the ink blurred and runny

So pass my writings down to every family child that arrives           Never just store them away in some back room archives                                            May the pages look well read, the corners torn and tattered                                                It will be a way of telling me, to you my poems mattered


Author Eileen Clark

Image ~ tattered pages on a old book of poems – Google Search

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