The papers were just pieces, <br />scraps really. <br />Nothing worth saving <br />to anyone else. <br />But, as I unfolded them <br />from the discarded balls they'd become <br />I read tidbits of my thoughts... <br />sweet nothings, <br />promises that were never given, <br />and poems that were left unwritten. <br /> <br />I laid open each one, <br />carefully trying to smooth out the wrinkles <br />that have changed it from treasure to trash <br />and placed it in my drawer <br />re-reading the emotions that have fueled my life. <br />One day I should tell each person mentioned <br />that I thought about them... <br />that I wrote about them. <br />Would they want to know? <br />Would they care? <br /> <br />Until then, they will remain <br />at the bottom of my pajama drawer <br />waiting to be allowed <br />to touch somebody's life <br />as they did mine this morning.<br /><br />Mary Nagy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trash-or-treasure/
