The papers were just pieces,
scraps really.
Nothing worth saving
to anyone else.
But, as I unfolded them
from the discarded balls they'd become
I read tidbits of my thoughts...
sweet nothings,
promises that were never given,
and poems that were left unwritten.
I laid open each one,
carefully trying to smooth out the wrinkles
that have changed it from treasure to trash
and placed it in my drawer
re-reading the emotions that have fueled my life.
One day I should tell each person mentioned
that I thought about them...
that I wrote about them.
Would they want to know?
Would they care?
Until then, they will remain
at the bottom of my pajama drawer
waiting to be allowed
to touch somebody's life
as they did mine this morning.
Mary Nagy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trash-or-treasure/
