The Last Goodbye -Typewriter

Mithrandir, As I bade my farewell to all the kind readers, I’d like to leave a little gift as a token of my gratitude, Please feel free to use the content of “Next Reading Spot”— I am waving all the rights to this one and previous publications.

In shadows cast by quill and ink,
A poet’s tale, a fading link.
She danced with words, a lyrical sprite,
But now, her pen, devoid of light.

In the realm where muses weep,
A silence falls, a secret keeps.
The poet’s heart, once a vibrant song,
Now rests in quiet, forlorn and long.

A last goodbye in every line,
A farewell etched in ink so fine.
She bade adieu to paper and pen,
In the twilight where verses end.

Her verses whispered to the wind,
Painted worlds where dreams begin.
Yet, in the inkwell, tears may trace,
The final lines of her embrace.

No more the ink that flowed like wine,
No more the verses, so divine.
The poet’s heart, a quiet shore,
Where waves of passion crash no more.

The quill now rests, its purpose gone,
A symphony of silence, a solemn dawn.
The verses linger in the air,
A ghostly echo, a vacant stare.

With each goodbye, a parting sigh,
A lyric whispered, a tear in the eye.
She folded dreams, sealed them tight,
In the last embrace of the poet’s night.

Oh, what led her to this fate?
To abandon words, her destined mate.
Perhaps the weight of worlds untold,
Or the weariness that time unfolds.

In the tapestry of words she wove,
A legacy of beauty, of hope, of love.
Though the inkwell’s dry, the page is turned,
Her spirit lingers, forever burned.

In the hush of silence, a poet’s rest,
But her words, immortal, and are suppressed.
For even as the quill may sleep,
The poetry of life, in echoes, seep.

Goodbye you!

Typewriter