As a writer, my whole life seems to have been dominated by the empty white page, empty being the
operative word! Yet the one thing I love is an empty white page, all ready and waiting for me to fill it.
I have piles of notebooks which I choose for their paper. Silky paper, so white, the pages border on a
faint lemon colour and when I write on them, the pen simply slides across the page. The only snag is, I have five thick and beautiful notebooks I cherish but which are now so full, I am reduced to finding empty half pages or bits of corners if I want to write in them. I bought these from Tesco years ago and have never found them again since. Well, here’s wishing you the joy of pages of words, or scraps of paper covered in words or backs of envelopes full of hastily scrawled lines or anything else that will allow you to write on it!
ONCE AGAIN
I am sick of this page,
Staring at me in all its whiteness,
Never once blinking,
Never once having the courtesy
To fill itself with lines of writing.
© 2019 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 