paper mentor

paper mentor Gwendolyn Dressler

Sometimes I cradle its cheeks like a child to a mother because it gave me the will to be stronger. I stroke the pages with my forefinger, and I think of the times we shared when I wanted to be alone forever. I cherish the shape of its V’s and L’s with reverence and admiration. Each line and curve of ink immortalized, etched atop the flayed bark of a birch or oak tree. I feel it sink in my mind during the light and dark times. I have lived in paper and ink for as long as I remember, but now I have to close its face and put it on the shelf, so I can know what it means to live as myself. Poetry 31