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Sunday, September 5, 2010

Random poem #8: Ink

Ink

Ink does not wash away easily with time...
It embeds, it clings, it does not falter
And even after the color has washed off,
The dents it leaves on the paper
do not smooth out
Crevices deepen as the years pass
And that one moment—
That one idea free-floating in time—
is captured,
is made permanent on paper

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