Clean blank perfect sheets of paper

Bright colorful patterned paper

I am surrounded by paper

Awash in paper

The feel of it, the smell of it, the crisp snap of it

The exuberant glide of ink across the snowy plain of it.

Such an abundance of delight it is to have paper

Paper enough to write on

To doodle

To rip

To crush and toss and taunt the cats.

When I was a child, it was not common to have paper at home.

I fell in love with paper at school.

So much paper, always available,

To write on, draw on, toss away.

The unexpected riches of paper.

Now I surround myself with paper

And never take it for granted.

1 Comment

Filed under fiction, personal, poetry

One response to “Paper

  1. lotrfan

    So thrilled you’re writing and posting again. Hope all is well with you.

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