Ah, the enticement of a fresh page:
Perfect, like a newborn baby,
Unmarked with blood, sweat and tears,
Its smell inspiring creative anticipation.
So soon words appear:
Memories, beliefs, regrets and successes,
The wisdom, or not, of years
Shown in lines, strokes, crosses and dots for the i's.
Can I trust what comes my way -
The words i choose or which are chosen?
I only know that I am here
To fill the page as best I can.
No comments:
Post a Comment