A Blank Page
By: John W. Flukinger

All alone on a bare–naked desk,
Biding its time.
Crisp and firm, fresh out of the package,
Dreaming, dreaming, and dreaming,
And each dream hoping and waiting
For someone to take a pencil and bring them to life.
"Go on!" it cries to any who would listen.
"Make me a drawing, a poem, a story!"
Hoping someone would hear.


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