Of Script and Type
A meditation in verse on the natures of Script and Type
O Script, O breath of pen as ink exhaled
o’er spoken words of men through time prevailed.
the passed down spoken word does time corrupt,
There was a sea,
Beside the valley,
On top of which she stood and closed her eyes.
The butterflies fluttered around her skirt,
And like the jealous ones,
The rabbits stood in the corner in a huddle,
And whenever she swirled around like a crashing copter,
The rabbits took turns to…