Every time I see a blank page,
I feel like I have to write.
There's always so much to say,
But I find no words in sight.
I confess my feelings
And I build on every thought.
It's my way to sing,
My way to not be bought.
I put down every memory,
And my moments I loved.
It holds discriptions of beauty-
Something I've been jealous of.
Letter after letter,
I'm in my own world.
It makes everything better
For this little girl.
I could write another three-
My lines of poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem