holding on to my paper love
folded and unfolded
again and again.
the words you sent me
mean nothing now,
but oh so splendid
when they did.
the worn folds
and turned edges
fluffed and whiskered.
simple words on a note
held for many years,
and what you wrote
lay in my hands
a thousand silent
times, and perhaps
a thousand many more.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
holding on to my paper love
folded and unfolded
again and again.
the words you sent me
mean nothing now,
but oh so splendid
when they did.
the worn folds
and turned edges
fluffed and whiskered.
simple words on a note
held for many years,
and what you wrote
lay in my hands
a thousand silent
times, and perhaps
a thousand many more.
Request permission to use this poem