ink fills the blank space of the page
with words that come
one at a time
reluctantly and without rhythm
without heart
I’m not used to it
my usual words carry so much
weight and worth
into what I write
but here, takes these ones instead
they’ll have to do for now
until those more profound
find their way into my soul
out through this pen
onto the page and then
over to you.
A.P. Bastian 