the page sits empty among the pale rose gold sands
words won’t be written and images will never be drawn
despite the fresh flowers that live by the metallics
the delicate lights flicker above the fields
my mind won’t think and my mouth just doesn’t move
even with the butterflies fluttering gossamery through the air
the waves gleam loudly while breaking on the shoreline
the camera won’t click and there’s nothing to be heard
regardless of the beauty or the glamour or the grace













