The Blank Page
The blank page on the screen
Waits for the words to be born
Not knowing what they mean
It bears them night and morn.
On it come to life many tales
Happy, sad, and in between
Here now and in a moment it stales
Words take a thought to ruin.
It sure bears them all
With no rolling tears nor smiles
The rush for the maddening scrawl
That runs for endless miles.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Added by Poetry Lover
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