They reside between pages of
magazines, books or journals.
some are yellow...some, white,
jaundiced
by neglect and by time,
lined or otherwise, upon which
are written spur of the moment
thoughts, maybe some nagging
experiences that can't be forgot.
they live amongst fellow papers,
unexplored,
crumpled, dog-eared.

Sun and moon
alternate,
while the unknown
waits.

Finally,
when found again,
the desire to resurrect
rings and echoes like an
indiscreet chime;
suddenly,
a crowd of ideas confuse
the hand and pen...soon
enough, words fall into their
proper places...old scribbled
notes, rediscovered and
revivified, a new poem is born.

Some, unfortunately,
are deleted unconsciously,
or thrown away accidentally,
some are purposely hidden
amongst life's in-betweens.

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  June 25, 2024