Ditto

Ditto — a whispered twin in ink,
A copy made where thoughts once sank.
We trace the line, repeat the sound,
Finding comfort in the familiar ground.

In every stanza, echoes play,
Reflecting yesterday’s array.
Yet each repeat, though same in guise,
Adds a subtle shade, a fresh surprise.

So let the ditto dance, repeat, and blend — A British echo that never ends.