We Scribblers Poem by Andy Brookes

our words tumble, parchment burns, ashes fly.
crumpled paper bins over flow, shredders on the go
so we scribble, dabble, scrabble.

history erases all but the few and they sometimes lie
on shelves dusty forgotten waiting to be discovered like new worlds.
so we scribble, dabble, scrabble.

tentative or bold, rated or not,
urgency the game because we have to
get it down before the light fades we fade
so we scribble, dabble, scrabble.

our four score years pass, blinking, gravity fed,
we fly to the vortex candle snuffed.
a smoke drift dissipating on silvered air.

so we scribble, dabble, scrabble.
to leave something of our essence
tangible that we existed we hear made our mark.

listen can you not hear the scratching of quills
ghostly echos of those gone before.
scribbling, dabbling, scrabbling.