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Using Ink
June 22, 2018
There's a flower,
Etched onto the desk,
In midnight ink.
Smudged, full bloom,
A faded first try a bit away,
Petals scratched in rough hesitance.
I wonder, who drew it?
Fiddling with sapphires,
Curving the shapes.
Was their mind clouded with rebellion?
Or crystal with intent?
Did they see beauty?
© Samantha M., Bethel, CT
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I was just in RE class one day, and I look down and see this gorgeous graffitied flower. I got inspired and rushed to write this poem.