On paper

It’s just a piece of paper

That unites and separates.

There are these scratches,

Instructed to know

As signatures of witness.

What about the journeys

on the bed,

on the buses and trains,

what about those nights

when a no meant a yes

those sweet, salty togetherness,

what about the ginger

in those precious lunch-boxes

scratch-less, spotless

gleaming with love’s labour,

of concern and care...

Those dreams wonderfully thankless

Fall as ink-drops, on paper-power.

O heavens I wonder

how these precious partners

will walk apart, strangers

tearing away the bond

of memories futile, fond...

scratches of those days

through severed paper craft

will beat in the hearts

as numb witness.