DAWN TROW
Prose Song

Deep within the forest of slumbering secrets, a fountain of ink flows into the mouth of poets. There the unwritten poem floats like a feather caught upon the lips of a warm breeze, and by the riverbank of rhyme my thoughts go skipping off through the trees. Alas, I never give chase, as I love to let them wander. So contented here in my portal of inspiration, I continue to sleepily ponder. From time to time, like a castle of candles, my inner flame dances as I lucidly feel the tickle of a feather rest upon my lips. You see, I am their vessel asthey're mine; I the sea and they my wordy ships. And, as I lean forward and set my feather on the surface of its journey to the inky ocean blue, My soul bursts into a song of pure prose, as I know that it is sailing off to you...