I keep running out of ink
fingers stained a different color each time
a reflection of where my mind wanders
the sparkling blue of a night sky
full of stars
you'll only see in the dead of winter
surrounded by snow
the deep green of the forest
with its enchanting scent
so quiet
so full of life
and the one called writer's blood
I bought because of the name
and always keep close
to pour out my heart on these pages
notebook after notebook
after notebook
© coldscars