there's empty paper that has been untouched for days
stored in boxes while the flowers bloom in late May
for hours, months & years
it misses the touch of ink and the way it smears
wording the words of expression towards another
the heart and paper combine and clutter
with feelings, memories, thoughts
with this typewriter i release those knots
and with this old paper i write you a poem
i write you a letter
for those brown eyes to read
the words clear and near
'i love you'
and the touched paper can go on living for more years
No comments:
Post a Comment