The Note



It’s only just a note, you know,
That can take a few words,
And make a heart glow.
The warmth and love the page radiates,
Can be felt so deeply, as they permeate.
The brain, the heart, the body, the soul,
All feel it, and comparing it, share it,
While it takes it’s toll.

The words in ink are gently, but firmly and purposely pressed into the porous fabric of the pulp, lying there so calm and innocent,
until the hands that reach to possess them raise them,
to curious eyes, intent.

Eyes of inquiry scroll quickly across and down,
Engagingly gathering the consonants and vowels,
Into pensiveness,
And then they slowly come to be,
Sounds, back at the beginning,
Creating a reverie.

Each word is now digested sweet,
As if a delicacy we seldom eat;
Savored, sautéed, and selectively chosen,
The words melt off the page,
As if once frozen.

The reverie creates a rhythm,
Within each heart and mind that reads them.
The melody and rhythm differ for each one,
As the words, like a mistress, call “hither”.

Words dancing round and round, and circling,
Take on their own life and new meanings, with each one, and varied reader,
A journey begins with a different leader.
The leader marches, tip-toes, or glides, to a different beat,
A separate set of slides,
Portraying different chants and images,
To varied minds and audiences.

The writer writes, and the reader reads,
And somewhere in between,
A message of emotions vary,
sweetness, happiness, sorrow, or pain,
lamenting and wooing, suffering, and shame;
incantations of dreams yet to come,
and regrets not mentioned,
of what’s already been done.

Herein the page and papyrus they dance;
Memories and hopes of a near or distant romance.
The art of emotion and conversation are there,
For each and every one,
Who chances a dare,
To read from their mind’s eye, combined with their heart,
And dare to open themselves,
To that deep, tender, part;
To feel, and test, to taste deeply,
And not squander, the words of someone else’s mind,
Who into their own, now did wander.

Did the words create, negate, or subjugate,
The thoughts and images that the writer sought?
Did they reach the student, stimulate the brain, turn a heart, or reach a vein,
With the money spent and the supplies bought?
Was it worth the effort of the writer’s hand,
To pen the notions she once had,
Spinning round and round within her head?
Did the reader really get the “glow”,
Did he long to be where the words led,
or lazily lying asleep in his bed?

The ultimate fate is up to you;
You see, you are the reader of this reverie.
So take it, and make it your own, now do;
And what message you receive, and what you do with it,
Is totally up to you,
So catch it.