A White Paper

A White Paper 

A white paper has nothing
No passion, no colour and no dreams
Except a pale smile for everyone
And waiting for its destiny
Sometimes for those scribbles
Sometimes for the dancing colours.

And at times…for the curves of a paper boat.
Paper boats, the slaves of the wind.
A white paper has no mind
But a frozen face and a faint smile
But it never dies.
How can it?
It has to be written
It has to be coloured
And it has to be moulded
Only to be thrown away at last. 

22 August 2012