I hear the sigh, 'alack and woe
Where did all the giants go?
the fountain pen
long dried and dead
spent all the prose --
left words instead.'
Still time is everything I guess
And distance makes it effortless
A march of hope
Through all the ages
Caught in frowns
On blackened pages.
A..J. Ponder - author page
This poem is (probably) unfinished. I have written other stanzas but am unhappy with them. Sometimes it is the "easy" poems that are so very difficult!!! :)
Besides - it seems somehow appropriate that this particular work is incomplete - after all it almost needs to be criss crossed with re-writes to give it the right tone ;)