Tucked on a shelf I found a book
Bound in red leather.
Its pages soft as worn-out silk
With the damp odor of mold.
Between its pages was a note,
Blurred by the hands of time:
"I'll wait for you tonight by the church door.
I'll be there at seven.  Don't be late."

* * *

1980(c)Vilma Vitanza
Albany, CA