From the tip of her pens lips
She forms an exhibition of words.
Each letter willingly strung along
Ensnared by freedoms illusion
Leaving pen, only to bind to paper
Ultimately delighted by her intrusion
Though bound forever.
It was a chanced encounter
Stumbling upon her tale
Like the whispers in the dark
Between the echoes of silence
Once falling upon deafened ears
From the banters of sown mouths.
It was a rare encounter indeed
Like the kissing of the moon and sun
Or a lightnings slow dance midair
Then again I suppose…
This was all by the alignment of stars
Granting passage to the passages of her mind
Permitted by celestial beings
Tinkering with destinies sails
Little by little until time came for our collision.
©Spilling Ink (O.J)