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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Contest: The Pensive Poet Sponsor: Constance La France Yesterday, while disencumbering the uppermost shelf of an age-softened cupboard, I disinterred a notebook whose quiet custody I had neglected for longer than memory readily admitted. Its linen cover had acquired the sepia patination reserved for faithful objects. The loosened binding had relinquished its final covenant, while wayward folios leaned from its margins like hesitant emigrants uncertain whether remembrance still required their return. I smiled, certain I was about to encounter the young man who had once believed every grief could be persuaded into cadence. Instead, there were astonishingly few poems. Several folios enshrined nothing beyond a solitary date. Others preserved a single unfinished line, abandoned in transit, as though interruption had quietly mistaken itself for permanence. One page offered only a title. Another, a single hesitation— Perhaps… Thereafter, I resumed the slow liturgy of turning pages, until the room itself entered recollection— the metrical persuasion of rain upon old windows, intonations now exiled from ordinary hearing, faces whose names had withdrawn into the republic of silence. Then an apprehension, gentle as dust, settled upon me. For a notebook harbouring so little language, it possessed an inexplicable gravity. No law of matter could justify such weight. Until I understood. Paper does not remember ink. It remembers hesitation. Not the poems that were written, but every lyric that declined the imperfect shelter of articulation; every valediction deferred into silence; every avowal that arrived after its recipient had already departed; every recollection for which no utterance proved sufficiently hospitable. A blank page is never empty. It is merely guarding a poem that has refused premature existence. I returned the notebook to the shelf with a reverence absent from my first touch. Some books are fastened with paper and thread. A poet's notebook is bound by everything it persuaded itself not to forget.
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