Red quill

These rigid, shaken
hands of mine
don't seem to be worthy
of the graceful, fine
and yet fragile
steadiness of this pen.

I fear it might break;
I fear I cannot learn
to recognize my hand
or myself in these words,
in their sake.

But I shall keep trying

to make it beautiful,

to make it better;

come to trust my quill

and for once turn my life

into a real poem -

my most honest love letter.