We don’t craft and send no more
Penned words residing in my draw
Those dated thoughts and gone events
Scrapbook of yore it represents
Handwritten mood, pain and regrets
Once sunny days, audacious bets
One young at heart, the choices made
Mundane events still on parade
Creased paper, yellowing in time
Cute fading stamps, once worth a dime
Ideas frozen, saved and kept
And people, places...
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