Handwritten Note

I found your words between the paper grain;

A folded secret in the quiet rain;

Ink in your handwriting, small and brave;

Like someone leaving light inside a cave;

The light bay hummed with his desolate grace;

And I traced your silence across the page;

He said, if you read this, don't turn away;

Some things are meant to be found this way;

And it felt like a door in the dark;

A spark in the hush of my heart;

One little note, but it changed everything;

Like spring after a season of stand;

If you were a whisper, I heard;

If you were on maps,

I'd follow the words;

A bookmark slept where the chapters split;

Like you had planned the exact place for it;

I saw a day, then a line half-smudged;

A promise shaped like a thought too much;

Were you a stranger, a lover, a ghost?

A name

I once knew and forgot the most;

You said, if you read this, don't turn away;

Some things are meant to be found this way;

And it felt like a door in the dark;

A spark in the hush of my heart;

One little note, but it changed everything;

Like spring after a season of staying;

If you were a whisper, I heard;

If you were a map,

I'd follow the words;

So I waited by the shellside fire;

Between old poems and borrowed lives;

Hoping your shadow would softly appear;

Like the rest of your story was still somewhere near;

And if you come back,

I'll know what to say;

I've been learning your silence page by page;

And it felt like it's dawn in the dark;

A spark in the hush of my heart;

One little note, but it changed everything;

Like spring after a season of staying;

If you were a whisper, I heard;

If you were a map,

I'd follow the words;

A handwritten note and a borrowed book;

That's all it took for my world to look;

A little less lost, a little more mine;