Sometimes I don’t know what’s going on with my muse. All the same, have a little poetry.
A Page in Wait
White-breasted and virgin am I.
Lay eyes upon me,
then fingers.Lay me down and press me,
smooth me under-palm.
A hitch in breath
at the first touch
of pen.Thirsty fibres drink, saturate,
darken, flush with ink.
Pant with each scratch upon me.
Faster now.Cover me, fill me to my edges.
Change me, claim me.
I shall never be the same.
Marked by your hands,
by your will.Satiated?
There is another side to me.



