ink drawings drew me
into the soft wartime pages
of literature
books were creamy
rough-edged
compliant
words plunked
into proper places
giving order
steel nibs guided ink
the hatched rough
massive trees and trolls
good books were worn
well-handled treasures
imaginary love, life lived
I drew out of the drawn
the desperate determination
to find those trees, brooks
now ink and light
soft strokes of pens
and words are gold
and I though old
am young and bold