Writing About a Blank Piece of Paper






A blank piece of paper. 

It lies there in front of me.

Expectantly.

Waiting.

Waiting on me. 

Waiting on me for words. 

Some people wait patiently, some people wait impatiently. 

But paper waits in silence. A deafening silence that will not go unanswered. 

Will I write?  Will I put down that first word in my mind? 

Do I trust that word? 

Do I trust that word enough to trust that another word will follow if I just just start with the first?

And one to follow that? And another? And yet another after that?

Soon enough, that blank piece of paper

 One word at a time

It is not blank anymore.


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