by Becky Earle
I wanted to carry him everywhere, but
His words wore a hole in my pocket,
And before I knew it, the scrap of
A notecard, rumpled and worn from
Fondling, fell to the street at the
Corner of Clark and Pine.
The shadow that saw it fall
Tapped my shoulder and held
It out, tenderly; a dirty glove
Cradled the precious paper.
I snatched it back,
Zipped it into my purse,
And locked it away.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student