So… uh… I wrote a poem.
The things I’d seen tonight
I look upon a blank white sheet
The paper’s story not yet complete.
A story now I aim to write
On this dark and stormy night
As I stare into the paper thin.
The page reveals the world within.
Before my eyes I begin to see
Every page’s possibility.
Works of art and poems fair
Appear on paper, thin as hair.
From the sheet begins to rise
A flock of papers, before my eyes.
The papers now take several shapes,
From a flying Raven, to swinging apes.
A pair of wizards begin to fight,
And to the left a noble knight.
An eye atop an obsidian tower,
Many around begin to cower.
A mighty whale up from the sea,
Leaps above, before me.
And in the middle of it all,
Sits a tree, both proud and tall.
From the tree comes a mighty voice,
“A paper’s purpose is your choice,”
In reply my voice prepares,
But I will not speak, I wouldn’t dare.
“Go now, friend and your story write,
For you must share what you see tonight,”
Now I wake up from my sleep,
And with a startle, I now leap.
I look around and see no tree,
For it was a dream, all that I’d seen.
But still remains one paper leaf
From the tree I stood beneath.
I grab my quill and begin to write
About the things I’d seen tonight.
Respectful, constructive criticism welcome!
