Ghost Writer

 a fallen pen

is worth a bend–

it changes what’s created,

a verse rehearsed

–not best, nor worst–

but found will permeate it…

You’ll write afresh

and see anew,

two quick collaborators,

a view now meshed

and quest unbound,

through script will be dictated.

So next time chance

a glancing scan,

from path you wend past grated

–guttered curbs

in towns and burbs,

since blurb might be awaiting,

in form of pen

misplaced by men,

or women as they gaited,

where you now tread

unwrit, unread

and consequently fated,

to blend and flow

from melded souls,

if only designated

–passer-by

would bend & try

to channel lost translators…