Calligraphy

I scraped my memory with a fine tip pen.

Calligraphy adds beauty to the words I
sang long ago by the river that once
was my home.

The woman in the woods found
creation to be her friend, when
being lonely was peaceful.

I often wonder if I could go back
to the solace of nothing,
craving silence of leafy winds
and late summer magic.

I know the winter stores fire
alongside the edges of my soul,
the older I become,
I don't think I can recapture
the meaning of that moment.

I'll create something again,
it's just a matter of compromise,
this body refuses to walk
the miles that my heart
yearns to explore....