Hidden Library

Books and love letters age hidden from view. 


Touching, smelling the passage of time, 


the distance between every point. Ink, 


the permanent record of thoughts scrawled 


or printed upon the page.




What has been extinguished, what has


endured, can be seen, held, cradled.


Pages recall that which memory cannot. 


A whirling pool ensnares you into deeper


depths, widens your eyes.




Bundle the papers, close the book.