#11: The Silent Disciple

| November 11, 2011 | 0 Comments

This is a girl who works in the day.

Subject to her father, she does what he says.

She mops the inn’s floors, she wipes clean the counter.

But he doesn’t know what’s special about her.

Learning to write from the old family bible,

reading Voltaire as the silent disciple.

During the day she’s quiet, demure.

But come the dark night and her pencil’s a blur!

She writes to the great minds of this day and age,

Descartes and Moore on her mind’s well-worn page.

Ok so call it blatant self-insertion or whatever, but I always liked to think that if I’d lived in nineteenth or eighteenth century england or europe or whatever I would have been teaching myself to write and then the floodgates would open. I’m so outrageously overanalyzing, I’d drive myself crazy if I didn’t have some way to get my thoughts out.



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Category: 2011

About the Author ()

Just a young whippersnapper who's interested in writing. >..<" I do a bit of poetry, and sometimes I write short stories when I have time.

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