almost new

back from a bit of a break from writing, to immediately reflect on the only thing i ever write about

a new letter has found my desk drawer,
the lavender scent permeating
my notebooks and watercolors and stationery
and sewing supplies.

the handwriting's neat, in its black ink,
foreing from swooping blue cursive of my fountain pen,
but familiar to my drawer all the same.

the papers around it stay torn,
weather-worn,
crinkling even after my hands caress it halfway smooth,
once crumpled up in a fit.

my new letter stays crisp.

while no contracts have been signed,
in some three hundred seventy-something days,
there may be a few fresh letters
to join the stray
of notebooks and watercolors
and newfound stationery.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Yours are words are meant to be read over and over. Seems you and your poem longs to be noticed, understood and more - as they should be.

'my new letter stays crisp.
while no contracts have been signed,
in some three hundred seventy-something days,
there may be a few fresh letters
to join the stray
of notebooks and watercolors
and newfound stationery.'

Seems you're back to spread your skill, back to show what wonders you can lay before friends, reviewers and more.. Truth be obvious, you have the need and imagination to lay magic with merely the mention of empty paper.. waiting and waiting.