Half baked love

he unwrapped the cover
to look over the pale ink that
filled every corner of the pages
his fingers felt  every word
that his heart had once poured in
He tried to relate to the petrichor
that few lines still had on them
He held the pages closer to
once again time travel to those
adventures, listen to bickering heart,
walk in moonlight,kiss her pretty face,
tap dancing holding her in his arms
He reached out to the end of each page
where he had grown a farm filled with lovely duets
the half baked ones that they casually recited
It has been years since these pages were born,
and few since he has penned a word
yet the poet continues to dwell
without a drop of ink.

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