The Paper

The ink waiting to kiss

the blank paper laid,

waiting for the flow

through my pen and my heart's glow.

A simple piece of paper,

Dead blank, plain and white

Staring blank at me,

asking me face to face

To what my thoughts pondered all over,

Who is she that paper awaits the sketches.

A subtle smile,

from away miles, I replied,

Its just words that would pour.

Its your blankness I need,

The romance of you and the ink,

The beauty of the flow,

My feelings, pen and you

that would draw her out with my words.

And you would reflect her beauty,

her meaning to my life,

her happiness, her sorrow,

So much would you mean for me.

You would be alive,

living the love of the ink,

Kiss of my pen and pain,

A sacrifice never forgotten,

of her, you,

Will be the only rememberance.