The Blank Page
The sheet is blank, and so's the mind
It's hard to think it so unkind
That friend that's been with you so long
Declining now to come along
It was not always thus, and so
At times so willingly to go
It led some place you'd rather not
Wondering just how you got
From here to there and back again
But still you treat it like a friend
Sometimes one that's led astray
Sometimes the one you hope will stay
For friends are dear, we know that now
Another hand upon the plow
Another shoulder in the trace
Which pulls its weight in that hard place
Aligns us there within the race
Drops us right into that place
Where furrowed brow relaxes now
And finds the rest none can efface
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