Thick book spines,
crack and spread open for me.
Ink smears, paint drips, lead scrapes
a symphony of creativity.
Lesson plans stack, towers of knowledge,
crinkled around the edges, warm from the copier.
The power of a single slip of blank paper makes some people sick with pressure.
Give me a clean sheet of paper and I’ll give you a piece of my soul.
One thought on “Hour 13, prompt 13 To Create”
‘Give me a clean sheet of paper and I’ll give you a piece of my soul.’ LOVE this line and the essence of your poem – I am with you!