One Last Page
One last page to write: blank.
Stayed up the whole night then
When morning's glaze on desk
Filled empty cup through blinds
Realized: forgot to thank
The empty page. Its gift
Limitless, enduring, better yet free:
Unadultered, immortal possibility.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.