I Want People to Share Their Poetry

The Old Desk

Hello night my dear old friend,
Your warmth ensconces me,
My pen in hand by candlelight,
A story yet to be.

The old wood desk with vivid scars,
On which I still yet pen,
Of battles long ago and new,
And those I've yet to win.

The morning dove calls to me,
Nearby in the willow tree,
Vestiges of another time,
And perhaps of me.

The light shines slow upon the wood,
To mark another day,
Slumber beckons yet upon my mind,
With so more yet to say.

So love the one with blackened hand,
Fingers old and bent,
From somewhere oh so far away,
His message finally sent.


Patrick