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My quill and I

My heart is bursting with love

So much so I thought poetry

Might impress a lady, but the

Lady I had in mind was woefully

Unimpressed. Not by my work

But by the time it took to write

Saying that I had neglected her

Causing her to miss out on so

Much others had enjoyed


So wrapped up in work was I

That I failed to see tragedy

As it railed down the tracks

Towards me and now that it

Is here I write in memory of

A girl I loved and lost by the

Light of a candle and the

Scratchy advance of a quill


If I could turn the clock back

I would, but I cannot. Today

I write in a more tempered way

But it is too late she has gone

And my quill and I are left to

Imagine love as it might have

Been, could have been,

Should have been...

©Joseph G Dawson


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