Title

The page sits. Blank. Accusatory. Insulting. Beckoning. Asking.

Pure potential. Perfect until the scratch of the pen, the tap of a key.

Ink mars its surface.

Ugly, ignoble text tainting the pure page.

Scrawled lines form structure, length and breadth. Form.

Paragraphs build, stretch, end.

Pages fill, once empty, now lined and scarred.

Chapters grow, enveloping, consuming.

A beginning begins, an ending appears, a middle connects.

The story exists.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s