The Paper Dreams Poem by Saint Cynosure

Every word thats written down,
comes from letters deep within.
Waiting tell its proper time,
Ive no knowledge when.
The letters turn to words,
with the splashing of the ink.
I can feel the joy it brings,
to the paper sheet.
Without the words its nothing,
no purpose to be seen.
It has to have its letters,
without them it cant sing.
This little piece of paper,
shows me what Ive never seen.
Surprisingly I realize,
that the paper dreams.