blank page front of meeager for words to flow inhope to set me free!
pen in writer’s handbows down to an empty page to spread its…
we write and wipe those specks of dust,we quietly free those poems.
that excuse to be a poet we writer’s know-how to steal that poem.
in words we will continuously search the true meaning.
in a year I sawall the shades of life.
that longing to live a bit morewe poets have it.