On the Page

I sat on something solid,
one dimensional,
crisp and thin.
I watched as
the man above
stared down at me.
I was absent in his vision,
he saw only
whiteness,
purity.

He picked up
his magic wand,
tasted it, twirled it,
brought it down
closer and closer.
I trembled in anticipation.

As the wand struck,
and words spilled forth,
the whiteness was transformed,
colored, as the reality
of his imagination.
A smile crossed his lips
and I felt honor
bursting from
the new creation.
It spoke to me,
a gentle whisper...

When he places me,
neat and perfect,
into brown wrapping,
and I am passed
from hand to hand,
I will shine forth
proclaiming him

A writer.