Once upon a blank page line
A story laid in waiting
To capture thoughts original
Held by a writer hesitating
How then should a book begin
To captivate inquiring eyes
Should it gently build suspense
Or shake the opening with surprise
The writer’s blank expression
Blended with the vacant page
Wrote four words then crossed them out
And suffered first line rage
As the anger flood dissolved away
Tension eased new thoughts occurring
As pages filled the writer thrilled
A sense of far beyond inferring
All through the night a writer’s plight
Must chase away a weak conclusion
By reading like a reader would
And so avoid The End confusion
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