The Ink, Black and Wet

Anyone still write letters?

Forgive Me

I once
you a note
with good
a song,
three blades
of grass,
and a memory
I have since
but the ink,
black and wet,
the white page
as the air
grew dark
and the morning
seemed so far away.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Handwritten.”


3 thoughts on “The Ink, Black and Wet

  1. That’s a sad poem for two reasons. First, people aren’t writing hand-written notes since the invention of computers and texting. And second, people are almost incapable these days of writing in long hand. If they’re lucky, they can print.

    I’m still a letter writer. A LONG letter writer. And am constantly sending out notes. I’m afraid it’s getting to be a lost art. But there’s just something about a beautiful piece of paper that you can touch and smell and read again and again. Like a good book. I have boxes and boxes full of letters and cards folks have sent over the years. They’ll get thrown out when I die, but they are certainly a treasure to me now.


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