Poetry: The Quill

by Liam

A feather flying from the wing

Became my quill to scribe this night

Of the wind in the sky

Of wide distant flight

To the moon, the stars on a cloudy day

I dip the nib to the pot

I write

The candle flickers to the shadows stooped dance

A black line scribbles as if in trance

Twists crazed in circles from left to right

To my thoughts which with the night fly free

The page now full with this poetry

How this began or how it might end

I know not how, I know not when.

The quill in my hand, to write till the end.