V is sticking,
interrupting the
flow, as
words, letter
by loving letter
strike, the
alabaster
page, purity
wiped clean
through deft
tapping of
keys, driven
home, sinking
sultry, buried
into the
stark canvas,
molding, scrupling
a lullaby
of singing
syllables,
seeking, a lover’s
song, a wayward
cry, a
brave new
world.
Creation streaming
from finger tips,
yet,
V
is
sticking.