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For You
September 29, 2016
You hold the paper so delicately
as if it would break at a touch.
Maybe the beauty is in the paper
all withered with age
and colored with time,
Or maybe it's the words they hold...
My words.
My soul.
Are my innermost thoughts so precious
that you dare not crease the page?
Are my words so valuable
you wish they never fade?
Tell me they are
And I'll write you some more
Because every word is for you.
© Michael H., Mildford, CT
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