The Paper and the Ink

The ink is a blotch

That can black or blue, even green or pink

But it can be more, when its purpose is fulfilled

 

An empty paper is lifeless

An empty paper is alone

An empty paper remains empty

 

Until its lover, the ink, comes

And as the dancey, words form

And slowly the page is filled

 

The paper and the ink would sit and wait

For the writer to perform the magic

When the writer plays his tune, their dance begins

 

The hands of the writer lead the ink as it sashays on the page

The blank page would feel the love the words bring

The paper and the ink would continue on dancing under the rays of the lamp

 

Together with the writer,

They told the story of the love,

Of the life,

Of the Paper and the Ink

Written in 2006

Edited in 2012

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