by Juliet Romano

Created on: April 12, 2010

I stared at the blank page,
So white and pure it seemed
I did not want to tarnish it you see,
For the piece of paper,
Laying upon my sturdy desk,
Was perfect in its little way,
No edges were torn,
No smudges showed.
It shook not when the breeze blew,
it stayed still and calm,
So heavy was this paper,
So sincere did it look
And so guilty did I feel
As my pen dug it's surface
And all the perfection of the paper
Was further elated in a way,
But little did I know,
There was no ink to show,
And so laughingly I decided,
To call my work as it was
A blank page.

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