February 3, 2010
It’s old; some would say ancient
worn out and dry
the ink has all but disappeared
a thousand words
graying, decaying

a pool of unspoken

the frame will give way
the crinkles will deepen

but I still remember
the smile, the day.

it’ll end up in a dump
crumpled and washed
that’s later, not now.
I still look at it
and know what it was
all about.

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