Crumpled pages

Crumpled pages on the floor
Held inside they are no more
Flowing through my sturdy hand
My attention they demand
Wrinkled words lay all around
Out where they can now be found
Not a secret holding near
Open to the eye they fear
Another page is tossed aside
No hiding things I cannot hide
Carelessly tossed to the floor
Then going back and writing more
Saw you take a crumpled page
One scribbled with an inner rage
Smoothing out and taking on
The bitter words that now are gone
Collecting pages as they lay
Reading all they have to say
Glistened tears begin to fall
After you have seen them all
I wonder why you cry for me
You smile and say, "Can you not see?
Goodness from my hand does flow
The kind I want for you to know."
Crisp, white page I now face
Hand over hand with strokes of grace
A story you create for me
On my own it could not be


  1. How do you do it, Ginger....pumping it's wonderful....thanks for sharing your words and thoughts.

    1. Perhaps I have too much time on my hands!?

  2. Once again you take a simple experience to a much deeper level; and convey that vividly with simple images. I am thankful for the opportunity to able to read your "writings and ramblings"; and grateful you have chosen to share them.

    1. Thanks Paul for checking in again. I sometimes wonder if what I write makes any sense to others at all, and I can never be sure unless they leave comments. Always wait anxiously for yours. Glad you liked it.


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