Blank enough to see,

Blank but out of site, 

Blank enough to see the light, 

Blank but not quite white,

Poetry reads between the lines,

But somehow the lines lie,

They lie on a blank white canvas,

To be seen even at night,

It reads my thoughts,

It reads my feelings,

It reads all that is read,

Even though it has no head,

It lives the life that is said,

It lives the life from anyone’s head,

It doesn’t have a soul, the soul is the words,

a wise woman once said,

Doesn’t make it useless,

Tears, tears, tears,

Cos what a saying, without the person advertisement,

What’s a heart without the body that bears it,

These are the words on a blank white canvas.