Pages
Pages
My book is but an
empty sheaf of pages
unwritten upon
by any hand but my own
Not one jot - not one slip
of the eternal pen
blemishes those glaring spaces
Must my worth be counted
in the coin of whatever realm
others choose for me
I think not
Let me write my own
words upon my pages
My pen will spell out
the essence blind eyes
do not see
Copyright © Sherry Asbury | Year Posted 2018
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