Vanishing, Without A Trace

Squiggly marks

Across the page

Often mistaken

As illegible scribble

By some people.

Which

Happens to be

My handwriting.

 

True

I do write

On the small side

But it's neat

And presentable.

(Been told

I should supply

A magnifying glass

On the atomic level strength

Or there about

To readers.)

But

In a time and age

Children can't write

Yet alone

Read cursive.

Why

Should my writing

Be subject to critique?

When

I never really intended

For others

To read my workbooks?

Fitting several poems

On a single page

Measuring 15.2 cm by 22.9 cm

Saving trees and money

With my micro-writing.

Softly sighing

At the thought

Of an art

Dying before me.

And there's nothing

I can do

To change this.