I hear nothing in my ear but your voice
Heart has plundered mind of all its eloquence.
Love writes a transparent calligraphy,
so on the empty page my soul
can read & recollect.
The “empty page” beckons…
when was the last time
you danced a pen upon smooth paper,
Allowed words to flow from your mind,
into your hand
guiding your fingers to pen
Your other hand holding the page steady
as your other writes with wild abandon?
Do you remember when?
You last wrote for so long you had to stop
and flex fingers and arch your back
and open your throat and heart upward
collecting more wonder from the universe
to attack the page again with ink?
How do you write?
Are you the type to press so light, words barely kiss the page
or are you (like me) you press so hard the script is felt as well as seen,
fingerprints can follow the lines and curves like a lover?
How do you love?
Do you like lines, keeping all within and contained
or do you like a completely blank page, grammar going wherever it may
do you doodle, add tiny things randomly, leave lots of blank space for meandering?
How do you dream?