Unflown Ink Within Poem by Agboyi Felix
Unflown Ink Within
Rating: ★4.0
This might not be the quil.
Nor might the leaflet be.
The ink is yet to flow,
Now the angle might be poor.
The seconds due, might not be.
May be when the sun melts
Its last funeral in the bays.
But whenever be the second;
There shall still linger, the tip
Of the quil, unflown ink within.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Life
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5/4/2024 6:18:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
a very flowing ink. Very nice