Twisting Quills

Blue moon is half way full
and the days when we were children
have done their time and gone
but now our story writes itself
our quills are minds their own
that bridged the chasms and crossed the gulfs

Ink and pen dipping, dancing
on parchment wrapped around us
the written words hide secrets
and deep inside, a storybook
unfolds into something more
felt within a long long look

Geometric words and lines,
curvy, straight, triangular
fiery trails on heated skin
tales in two vernaculars
quills in jars of coloured inks
write in deep and fluid movement

Only the pens and paper know
the pain endured to get us here
our separate lives entwined within
circle back to then and now
who we are and who we'll be
past and future meet somehow

Shapes and textures, sounds and spaces
creating our profound experience
hidden meetings, open glances
gods and heros of the story
rolling dice and taking chances
feathers ink indelibly

Flowing, growing, coming, going
leaving us helpless in their power
quills entwined dip and sway
bright eyes sparkle in your star
helping light the way before
no matter whether near or far