Oct 27
masone's picture

Blank Winter Night

I sit alone, at my small white desk, with the worn out edges.

There are  little marks where the paint has chipped off.

From my little desk, I face the window, fogged up with cool air.

I can smell the smoky fire from my neighbor's chimney.

I look down at my notebook, the page blank, the paint next to it still untouched.

I am empty, as clear as the snow on the ground.

The colors have gone, with all my ideas, back in the fall.