lost and found

I desperately searched,

every day,

For that pot of ink

I lost...

The ink that writes itself

into words,

in thousands of colours

iridescent,

in joy;

dark, deep

in morose shades of despair;

translucent

in dreamy white,

and at times,
in hues,

like from an artist’s palette,

mixed,
yet adjusted to perfection.

Today, I found it.

Gathering dust,

in an ignored corner of my mind.

And also, a pile of white paper.