My son Scott and his wife Melissa got me the feather ink pen and ink for my birthday, for my inspiration to write again💜💜
A Dream
I am in another time, and another part of history writing a poem with my feather pen.
I am not Robert Lewis Stevenson or Emily Dickinson (although, I am her cousin)
But, nonetheless, I imagine to be writing by candlelight with spatters of ink here and there.
My fingertips are black with ink, and gloriously moving back and forth on the page.
Maybe like Emily, I wonder?
I can dream I am as I put the ink bottle lid back on.
Pat Wade Nicholson
2026








































































