Wherein the prompt was barely a prompt: "the______". Yup a fill in the blank that was basically all blank. I got severely distracted by a linguistic distraction earlier in the day, that had nothing to do with poetry writing, and it took me a while to come up with something workable. I resorted to a brisk walk to get my mind working again. This was the result:
The New Page
Those last few lines I've finally written.
It was harder than I had hoped.
So many, many easier endings,
I had tried - and tried in vain.
But there are other, kinder stories,
Braver tales to be told.
I turn to an undamaged page,
Sharpen my pen and start again.