As time leaks,
I begin to pinch the edges of three year old paper,
trying to hold inside the memories I see in pictures.
Just as if I were to stumble,
the people within the memory would burst out and run among my era.
And if I’d allow of it,
I’d stumble heavier than earth’s weight,
And believe that the world would hold still for a moment,
and I’d be carried away within the memory.
I could give my paper friends the organs that see to it I breathe and move and feel and touch.
I wouldn’t need to breathe anymore,
nor touch the withering pages that hold the truth to how much time has passed.
I could be inside the globe I would always dream of.
The paper globe.