Of Handwriting


Thoughts flow to my pen

And form peculiar shapes

A continuous rhythm of letters,

Each unique in figuration.


Letters merge into words,

And words into sentences,

Coalescing into unity,

Like the individual strokes of a

single wholesome painting.


Such a happy letter,

A single concave stroke,

Like the airiest of smiles

In a dark room.


The curve on an n

Juts up from the ground

Like a protruding mountain

In an ocean of words.


The eye of an i

Is isolated and trapped

Like a small island

Extended from shore.


Two strokes for a t

Each so definitive,

Like a decision that

Cannot be changed.


And finally the tail of a y,

Like a figure skater

Dancing into dizziness,

So elegant and free.

Cursive scrawl and rounded print

Carry the same word

But convey

Meaning of its own.

photo (1)


2 thoughts on “Of Handwriting

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