Desk, a silent stage, pen & paper, instruments of a forgotten age, in solitude's stark shadow, he is the final fading sage, writing pages of poetry, a sad souls wish to engage, yet no audience comes to witness the knavery, his verses fabricated flow, a coward seeking bravery. The desk, his realm of reverie or lost lament, a poet's world, sometimes feels like a thousand souls encased in cold grey cement. #abrknpoet