This Is Fiction

Blank pages, blank canvas.
Life stages, life standards.
Bound feet, hands tied behind.

Before their eyes and yours,
They give a friendly offering.
Blank pages, and a pen.

Starting afresh they’d say,
We’d work things out
Just me, and you.

No dark shadow on this canvass.
But it’s really a shadow,
Not anything close to a canvas.

Victor Oyedele