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Ballad of Me



Ballad of Me 

With pen 
in hand 
(I dislike to type.) 
sitting, dazed, 
I take a swipe.

Ink flows 
onto 
white-lined pad, 
methinks aloud, 
"'Tis not too bad!" 

Rhyming 
like 
a super bard, 
at times, 
a poem 
can come 
hard.

Chained, 
to a chair, 
I sit 
and write, 
on and on, 
through 
day 
and 
night.

Coffee 
flows, 
like the ink,
it helps me 
focus,
thoughts 
to think. 

Moonlight
shines
upon the page,
nighttime writing 
is the rage.

Face 
is growing 
wan 
and pallid
from lack of sun,
so
now it's time
I end this ballad. 


© 2014 ajwrites57
A Long
❤ ❤ ❤


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