Sitting here I’m here writing on paper ,words
becayse I feel lost
words onto a empty place
onto white on those cotton clouds
words onto lines that are now all of a sudden fetling they have something
they are not alone anymore
a group of words
colour of evening sky meeting cotton clouds of the day
meeting doves who feel alone
the night sky talks to the clouds of the dreaming day
paper no longer alone when a person decides to be there
when words are written
as they should be in this place
seen noticed and has company from someone
if only the paper could talk
speak its feelings
about being paper
because maybe it wants to be heard