Figments

He set the pen down 
And scribbled me out, 
All singing and dancing 
about and about; 

Here a quirk and there 
a virtue, next a drive 
to fall and rise to- 
the pen set out, 
the pen set out; 

Scribbling and scribbling, 
I grew and yearned, 
Now a man walking, 
Now a man learned; 

And as he wrote 
Across the page, 
A notion he had 
Of a scribbling mage; 

So here I sit 
With pen in hand, 
Dreaming up folks 
In foreign lands; 

And sometimes between 
Comma and clause,
I wonder what hand 
that this mind draws.