The Blank Page

  
The blank page  
with nothing to say,    
whispers silence and doubt.    
A winter chill in rhyme,    
an absence of the sublime,    
always on my mind.    
A fire within    
promising words unspoken    
but the key has been broken,    
the door nailed shut    
   
silence screams on an empty page,    
praying for words and hoping for rhyme,    
begging my pen to write.    
Breaking the door to reach the fire inside    
but winters' cold is already here,    
words frozen in my soul.    
Then you take my hand    
and smile with understanding,    
the cold was never here,    
so I sit by the fire and compose    
another poem