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A book
Empty
Clean
Fresh
Unblemished, save a stray nail mark as I held it in my hand
Pen untouched
Protective cap still on the nib
No page has touched this pen
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Inside
Quiet pages, waiting to tell the stories they hold
The fresh smell of the crisp vanilla pages calls to the pen
The bold, clean lines of the pen call to the mind
And the quiet mind calls to the imagination
A fresh start, a new book
What stories will it hold?
Well.
Let's see where the story takes us
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~©@$$
YOU ARE READING
Half Truths and Hidden Memories
PoetryA place of sorrow, of fear, of pain. A place of joy, of hope, of love. A place to cry out in fear. A place to shout in joy. A place to be myself, and hope not to be judged for who I am.
