Yellowed paper slips
Beneath my bureau
Stiff fingers
Grasping
For the mysteries
In faded ink

Not for me
Hidden away
In an antique
Sold at some
Shady
Consignment
Store

Not the fate
That they deserved
These beautiful
Words
Filling the paper
With their meaning
Pleading
Hoping
Asking

So many words
Flow before
My eyes
The dates
So long ago
Hidden for
Ages

I finish
My heart yearning
For words like these
For me
Not my bureau
Sister