These pages
Plain white lined from top to bottom
Are bored
They have not been visited by pen often enough

No one has taken them on a journey
To some distant place the mind created
Or the heart remembered

They lie dormant in their bed
Between red and cardboard covers
Bound by silver wire
They can not escape

They wait patiently for someone
To give them new life
To free them from their ordinary
And meaningless existence

They can’t even be trees anymore

Andrea Gonzales 4/17/02