That Pen And Pad Is All I Have

That pen and pad  

Is all there is

And when the fall comes 

They’re the last things  

That stay

Pen becomes rope 

Thin but real

Wrapped in hope  

You barely feel

Pad becomes ground

Soft but deep

Catching the sound  

Of what you keep

Ink turns to night

Heavy and slow

Pulling the light  

Where you can’t go

Lines drop low

Rhyme grows weak

Truth starts to show  

What you can’t speak

Fall gets cold

Fall gets long

Stories told  

Don’t feel strong

But  

That pen and pad  

Still hold the spark

Still mark the path  

Through the dark

They rise like wings

They hum like breath

They stitch the things  

You thought were death

Soft beginning

Rocky middle

Deep fall end

Yet still they mend

That pen and pad  

Is all I have 

And somehow  

They’re enough  

To lift me  

Back up