Look at you, so clean and pure
As beautiful as the tree you were
You hold such promise in your self
A treasure-trove of writers’ wealth
You’ve yet to be scarred or written on
Undedicated, no stories drawn
The ability to transform into a work of art
You reflect what lies in others’ hearts
Whether solitary or bound in book
You stand center queen not sentinel rook
Moving whichever way you please
What all pawns aspire to be
For you make or break this game
Writers’ curse and praise your name
It all depends on inspiration
And a lot of dedication
Oh Blank White Page you are the key
To unlocking all of our dreams

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