Written on paper, handwritten mess
Swirls of cursive, great, fancy lines
Another generation, or maybe two
Won't see the art, can't read it's ink
In three, the best, the paper lost

Maybe a scrap, burned, incinerated
Thrown by a child, young woman's maybe
Remnants of a past, great, great grandmama's fire
Doesn't open the note
A journal unread
It's wasn't written in stone
Only temporary, illusion art

A woman deserves, poet's heart
To write in stone, a love that lasts
Too heavy to throw
Hard to burn
Written in stone

The most precarious of words
Linger and doubt, remove all that
Not written in water, sand or spout
Give to history, not shapeless grave stone
Something to be passed
Proven in stone