An altercation 

Between parchment and ink

And possibly the quill.

A quibbly sort of fellow,

He draws lines

Too sharply at times.

They cut,

And the cost 

Is much too heavy to blot.

Scribes have tried.

Those writers in robes,

They would know

Having spent hours

Over books bowed.

I have made a lousy one.

What might it matter

If script became dragon?

A mistake is only made

When spied through the page.

My menagerie 

Would never betray.

So still, I parlay 

With my quill…

Or, perhaps, it’s parley?

He so likes to argue,

And I’ll happily oblige

As it is in my disposition

To remain sunny.

–C. Green



2 thoughts on “Sunny…

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