The Quill fits in my hand

Like the feather type of quill

I love to write,

but my quill thinks not.

I write a sweet poem,

but it changes my words.

I write a little rhyme,

but my quill refuses to cooperate. 

My quill rearranges the letters,

making new words that no one understands.

It disagrees with each word I write,

but writing is my life.

So what do I do?

Easy, I cut the words out from some book,

and use the letters to make the words I need to use.

Although sometimes I feel the need to write,

with that stupid little quill,

even though it makes so many mistakes,

the quill fits like the last puzzle piece in my hand.

Author's Note

none

Reviews

[m3lody mae]

This is so awesome, I love this write