#memories #fears
it hadn’t been the first time
I’d taken the dizzy heights
but I knew the leaders of scouts
wouldn’t see me tumbling
crossing the gap of
the Irish waters
on planks of finest oak
sharpened the mind
for it was wasn’t the wood
I was fearful of
but the way the bridge copied
the watery waves below
and as the water bobbed
up and down in the wind
the planks underneath
copied it
Inkdrop is freelance writer with a passion for exploring the intersections between nature, architecture, and artistic expression. With a background in computing, and writing – his pen name harks back to when he played around with rhymes and a fountain pen. Now joined by a selection of created photos from an acquired DSLR camera He shares insights with scribblers of all backgrounds. Outside of visiting museums and exploring the latest in exhibits , he enjoys walking through the countryside in pursuit of the next rainbow.
The Inkwell 
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