I opened the book at a page,
Not entirely by chance,
A page crammed with print,
Some lines were left blank,
Spaces marginal,
As if to invite comment,
Or at least a sideline,
Pencilled, unstained by ballpoint.
I let the words and adages and quotes,
Slide into private pools of silence,
Hoping to awaken
Words as yet unwritten, unsaid,
But implied.
- - -
March 12,2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem