What I Feel When I Write

My paper is milky white empty and willing like the night is dawn's canvas majestic, so is my backdrop, wanting the words, the story to be complete my pen jet black longing to transcibe seeing the letters fall magicly my hand dances, Suza's Waltz merrilly leaving behind my voice my reason, my ryhme If my life were a nookbook one blank page at a time and my pen was fred astire, taking me back in time my paper will be blank at the start of each new day so no matter the outcome I will always have a say