Watercolour

A new pen should

Suffice to write the

Words that flow like

Ink, dull red, through the

Nib, proud sharp and

Shining.

As a watercolour

Swept up in the

Wash of emotion, its

Colour spread and grown

In the cool deep

Waters.

And the ache never leaves

Yet it survives and it

Surges for the want of a

Clear and concise

Answer.

What it will

Where it goes

How it is

No-one knows

Yet it slips

Yet it rests

Yet it's still.