Ancestral Ink

You are aging with grace,

your words still brand-new

to virgin ears—

yet ancient to the era they were

fostered in.

The smile you yield now is

a radiance of your reflected

Queen,

standing infinite by your side 

after eons of absence.

Your pen has stood on everything

Kingly of a black man,

waisting no breath getting your

words out—

never altering your base.

Ten years have moved past the

clock, 

adding more pewter,

but your wisdom hasn't aged

against your face.

—JG  ©2026