May 2011
1 post
writing
My hand glides across the page
the blank page waiting for words to be written on.
The pencil bobs up and down leaving behind
black lead curves, lines, and dots
symbols which form into
words, sentences, and slowly,
paragraphs.
The hand that writes,
the words written
forever etched onto the page.
The memories, emotions, thoughts
like eyes are the windows to the soul,
hands are the...