White pages

I might be small 
And these hands might not be as experienced as others
But I have my own joy

Playing in the white snow of my morning pages
Molding and folding the paper so words can crack through

Il come and show them to whoever is interested
But usually I just want to show myself what ive created

“Isnt it beautiful”
“These jumbles of words I have found”
“What do you see in them”
“Because I have found myself”