Blank pages lay before me,
Awaiting my heart and pen.
Waiting patiently always ready,
For when my words flow again.
They take them all,
Never thinking any absurd.
Without doubt or predujice,
The page accepts my words.
This page though has no life,
Can truely be called a friend.
It has been with me from the srart,
And will stay till my words do end.