Blank Paper

Blank Paper

My hand is always beckoned

To take a pencil or a pen

And draw, write or just record

Deep feelings, scribbles, amends

Gleaming surface pure and clean

Whisper to my eyes

Sometimes I write my hellos

At other times good-byes

Just when I get that urge

To create symbols of my art

I find if I’m not quick enough

The images depart

A flittering of a verse or song

Running quickly through my head

Can repeat itself within my dreams

Becoming elusive if not said

Aloud or silent upon my own

Canvas of paper pure and white

I am beckoned again and again

To draw, create, to write

Theresa H. Hall

(C) 2000

Blank Paper


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