Rags of antiquity
Brown stained fragments
Of some other time, some other world
Genuflecting, in some ancient’s honor
As calligraphy embraces descendant’s hand
Tattered, torn in parts,
A different way of life it was,
Musty scent from where the aged papers spent,
Its vagrant years,
As forgotten words,
Suppressed through neglect,
A voice repressed,
By motions since,
Yet, today, this afternoon,
Reunion from a world unknown,
Page upon page, word upon word,
I noticed the way you crossed your t’s & the positioning of the dot above your I’s; then realized your ink lay in a way, not too estranged from mine.
And through the dusty attic window, outdated for an era or so, must be back in vogue, as I firmly recall, seeing such a design, prominently displayed, on the showroom floor, shifting clouds could have been seen, if my eyes ever chose to rest, if they had averted from this diary that I read.
I noticed, no matter how much things have altered, when it comes to matters of the heart, when it comes to love, not much has changed at all.
And it’s eerie for me,
To find you and I,
Are strangely connected,
Apart from DNA.