Isn’t it amusing
How a blank page
Holds endless stories
Within its being
The unending possibilities
Widows and orphans
Prose and poetry
Hidden underneath
A blanket of colors
Waiting till someone
Draws one out
And gives it life
As the rest venture
Into new homes
Waiting beneath the surface
To be born
So they can breathe life
Into another being

All the blank pages
With untold words
Dancing beneath the horizon