The Author @ Night
Surely at some point in the future I will be replete.
Batting at a moth struggling for the same light, he
scratched away the word replete. -- Superfluous.
Adding, In ages hence there will be no such need.
Thoughts will be transmitted in other ways. Faster.
Dipping the quill, his window revealed a lone girl
tossing back her hair, and a soldier approaching.
A discussion ensued. She ran off crying in the rain.
He dipped again and brought forth a new sheet.
Genevieve from that night forward left her harlot life.
And we have every page since to thank that nothing
from the first verse has ever come to pass.
-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --
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