Imagine a blank piece of paper
Nothing exists on this empty page,
But these words suddenly appear from the
stroke of my hand as I maneuver a pen.
A poem is created from nothing,
With paper and ink.
But paper and ink are not the poem
Its the words that create the poem.
From nothing my feelings for you take form,
As affection and admiration grow with time,
And in time these feelings grow to become love.
But my love for you is not merely my affection,
Nor is it my admiration for you
My love for you is what it is
It is my love for you and only you,
Shared and embraced by only you.
Do not place labels on my love for you
If I do not love you as you wish,
Or if my love does not fill your needs
and expectationsis it then not love ?
Must I love you, as you desire before you
allow me to proclaim my love for you ?
Is my love for you then nothing more than
my own feelings of affection and admiration ?
In return what is then given is not
created from nothing
But rather from your expectations and
inability to accept my love as it is offered.
What is returned is nothing...
Erin Woods
11/05


