They cling to the weight of their quill,
the tactile sensation, grounding them,
yet, the digital tide pulls at their resolve,
urging them to adapt or be left behind.
Nostalgia blooms in the scent of old books,
memories of applause, now distant echoes,
the poet's dilemma, a struggle within,
to honour tradition or embrace the new.
......
She, who left me alone,
Left me alone with unending pain,
She breaks my heart and I'm crying like a rain,
But does she know the meaning of love,
Look what you have done,
......
They cling to the weight of their quill,
the tactile sensation, grounding them,
yet, the digital tide pulls at their resolve,
urging them to adapt or be left behind.
Nostalgia blooms in the scent of old books,
memories of applause, now distant echoes,
the poet's dilemma, a struggle within,
to honour tradition or embrace the new.
......
She, who left me alone,
Left me alone with unending pain,
She breaks my heart and I'm crying like a rain,
But does she know the meaning of love,
Look what you have done,
......