The Pen and The Page
Here I sit, my pen floating above the page,
swiftly moving- left to right,
but the pen doesn't touch the page.
The pen is gazing upon the page,
wanting to mark it with love,
but every time it tries,
it pulls back in fear.
And yet the page stays still,
lonely as can be,
watching and waiting, for the pen to make it's mark.
The pen knows, what it wants to say,
but can't find the right words to say it.
The page, awaiting to be told a story,
from every word the pen writes.
'One day, ' says the pen, 'I can tell you my story.'
'That day, ' says the page, 'I'll be yours to use,
so you may tell your story.'
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Comments about this poem (The Pen and The Page by Katherine Bryce )
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