A Blank Page

A Blank Page by Jack A.S. Dunce It surely seems this pen is running dry; I know I wrote a page, yet still, it's blank. I read it while I wrote, I saw the dye Imprint the letters, in my mind they sank. I vividly remember every word; They've danced around my mind for quite awhile, zipping here and there like a hummingbird, before I plucked them for something worthwhile. I thought I put on paper each of them, Deliberately crafting, line by line, With hopes of creating a polished gem That age and matures through time like fine wine. A couple hundred words, many a day, I sifted through my joy, sadness and rage, To send a piece of my soul on its way, And yet I see nothing but a blank page. --🏵️-- ©️pgmr, 03/02/2025