On the table I see
A blank white paper
Motionlessly waiting for my touch
Waiting for the kiss from my pen.
My flesh trembles
As hesitation strikes
The white paper is waiting
Waiting to be touched again.
I step back and peek outside
Felt the gentle cold breeze
That swiftly blowing the trees
Swaying the leaves mildly.
I turned back and look at the table
There again I see the immobile sheet
Obviously waiting for me
Waiting for my touch once more.
Ah… if only I have the courage
To feel its smoothness again
If only I have the freedom
To touch and write on the paper.
