Blank

This paper.
It's so blank.
So very, very blank.
I can imagine all the stories, drawings, and words.
They could be written, drawn.
They could be cut, painted, ripped.
The story is always blank at first.
But it always gets better.
But a story is never blank.
Unless you let it be.
Anything can happen.
 
A

A Sports Person

VT

16 years old

More by A Sports Person

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  • Poetry

    By A Sports Person

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    This is a poem of hope,

     a poem of peace. 

    It is short and sweet, 

    simple as a bird going tweet.

    I just want to say 

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    that is all I have to say. 

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  • Poetry

    By A Sports Person

    You're Job Is A Tree

    You glow in the day,
    A shadow at night.
    As kids climb you they scream with delight.
    The sky turns pink, gold, and red.
    You sit there watching. With nothing to be said.
    You bloom in the spring,
    And loom in the winter.

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