Ink Spills (Calligraphy)

Calligraphy (Ink Spills)

I marvel at the skilful coddling of her chosen instrument of expression
Calligraphy on the pages of repressed intention

Pouring forth from the pitcher of her soul,
Faithful her truth stood,
For conformity she showed no affection

Needless to read between her lines
Warm now the climate of her countenance,

The weather of words clear and unopen to interpretation
In lieu of tears,
She had discovered termless freedom,
in the spills of her ink