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not to the swift of foot
Folder:
2025
He clings to the weight of his quill,
the tactile sensation, grounding him,
yet, the digital tide pulls at his resolve,
urging him 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.
His heart aches for the simplicity lost,
the intimate connection with each verse,
yet, the rapid pace of today precludes,
the quiet reflection his soul craves.
With a sigh, he dips his pen once more,
a solitary battle against time's rush,
knowing his legacy is not in speed,
but in the depth and soul of every word.
