An ink-dipped quill
rests on the table.
He picks it up,
wondering
what it is.
He touches it down
on a piece of parchment
and a thin line appears
as though by magic.
He puts down
the ink-dipped quill,
feeling too young
to hold this magic.
The ink-dipped quill
rests there,
waiting to be
put down upon a page.
She walks in,
sees the ink-dipped quill
and rejoices.
She grabs it happily
and begins to write.
He looks at her,
confused
at how she does it.
She smiles
and simply points
from the words on the paper
to her heart.
rests on the table.
He picks it up,
wondering
what it is.
He touches it down
on a piece of parchment
and a thin line appears
as though by magic.
He puts down
the ink-dipped quill,
feeling too young
to hold this magic.
The ink-dipped quill
rests there,
waiting to be
put down upon a page.
She walks in,
sees the ink-dipped quill
and rejoices.
She grabs it happily
and begins to write.
He looks at her,
confused
at how she does it.
She smiles
and simply points
from the words on the paper
to her heart.
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