It's become a ritual every few years
to sort through the contents of
this heart-shaped ribboned box
filled with notes of passion
yellowed through the years.
The various ragged edge scraps of paper
fall loosely to the bed in disarray.
I carefully unfold the ink blurred corners,
struggle with aging eyes
to re-read the words of lovers and poets
caught up in the heat of the moment.
Disjointed ramblings written
in the wee hours of the evening,
napkin poems, rhyming poems,
a four page letter filled with
second thought corrections.
Not what he meant to say?
With renewed interest I linger
over each fragment,
read between the lines,
vividly recall the beginning,
middle, and end of romances.
I cry, laugh out loud,
cringe, regret, savor,
re-live again and again,
the song and dance of love.
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For all the men I've loved or been loved by before.
These are some choice Bon Bons you sent over, Judith! Love this one!
*
really nice memories to keep forever.
Bon bons, indeed. The song of love, the dance of memory. *
Yes, yes.
Well done.
Thank you all. Much appreciated.
Good poem, Judith.
Good poem, Judith.
Thanks bill.