Poem – Pulp Thoughts (By Mary Bone)

Pulp Thoughts

A blank space

my white paper.

Inkblots, like my thoughts.

Dotted lines-

a poem appears.

The paper, once a tree

with flowers, held life

and grew.

It was chopped down

and made into pulp.

The pulp dried

and I write down thoughts

hidden from view.

[su_mary_bone]