The Manuscript

The Manuscript


I came across this manuscript

Whilst sorting out one day

A pile of dusty documents

I thought to throw away.


The paper had turned yellow

And the ink begun to fade.

Some poetry about a dog:

A verse that I had made.


That little dog left long ago,

For where? No one can tell.

But in my poem, she’s alive,

I captured her so well.


It’s what we do. We capture life

And frame it with our words.

And then, in some far distant time,

We set it free, like birds.


©Ruth Twyman Lockyer October 2013

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