Paper friend.
You flew away on the breeze.
Once that scribe, wrote loving words.
Deep into flaking bark.
Bark stripped off in preparation.
For serious pulping.

For silent he became.
Once was awesome.
When on the grass, we laid and held.
Where, so tenderly curled in luxury.
Needing nothing, no other than the other one.
Beneath primeval oak.
As a pair of skylarks, we played in the park.
Spirits of trees, dissected and pulped.
Re-modelled, created as love letters.
Perhaps, maybe a book.
Or maybe made a plane of paper, just so you could fly away.

By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)