Who I am

I am a blank canvas,
A slate wiped clean,
A manifestation of empty words,
The hesitant breaths between.

I am a sheet of spotless parchment,
A song never been sung,
An untouched puddle in the street,
The embroidery not yet spun.

I am a grain of sand,
Ink not fashioned into art,
The scratches of a fumbling hand,
The match with no spark.

I am the lines of a story unwritten,
A seed lying dormant,
A small syllable unspoken,
The path lying undiscovered.

I am not a prudent writer,
I do not seek solace,
I am a dreamer, a dabbler,
One day I'll have story to tell.

The End

14 comments about this poem Feed