Pages

These pages, white pages,
of parallel lines,
tell the words,
of my minds eye.

These pages, wishing pages,
lay expectantly,
longing to be laden,
with words by me.

These pages tell fables,
of pages past,
cut down, shredded, bleached,
to be bound at last...

Only to sit, a dust gatherer,
til' that fateful day,
that they are scribbled upon aimlessly,
then thrown away.

These pages, icy pages,
lay sullen now,
because to these feeble words,
they are forever bound.