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Memory Full™
Worn out, the dying pencil starts to falter
As the memory starts to fade.
Wherefore does the pensieve fail to retrieve,
The memory once so golden,
The writer seems oblivious to?
The pencil laments it's absence
As the diary turns in an empty page.
They said the shortest pencil is longer
Than the longest memory held,
Alas, they never spoke
Of a memory so distant,
No quill could hold the ink for,
As the blots widen
And the pages burn naked
With no story to recite.
© windrider
As the memory starts to fade.
Wherefore does the pensieve fail to retrieve,
The memory once so golden,
The writer seems oblivious to?
The pencil laments it's absence
As the diary turns in an empty page.
They said the shortest pencil is longer
Than the longest memory held,
Alas, they never spoke
Of a memory so distant,
No quill could hold the ink for,
As the blots widen
And the pages burn naked
With no story to recite.
© windrider
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