i was going through my desk drawers the other day, and came across so many bits of paper, strewn everywhere in those drawers. scraps, torn pages, whole notebooks. the thing they all had in common was that they all felt like a little piece of myself. and you know me. i have such trouble letting go of things. i’m probably one of the most sentimental people i know. and it’s a blessing and a curse at the same time. and at this particular time it felt a bit more of a curse, only because i was really determined to make some more room in those drawers (they were really quite jam-packed, i assure you.) anyway. i think i’ll share a few of these little pieces of myself that i found in a mini-series of posts, if you will, in an attempt to be more vulnerable, but also in an attempt to make more space! without further adieu, here’s a poem i adore, found written in purple ink on a torn piece of binder paper.
once i spoke the language of the flowers,
once i understood each word the caterpillar said,
once i smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
and shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed.
once i heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,
and joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow,
once i spoke the language of the flowers….
how did it go?
how did it go?
– Shel Silverstein
i love going through little pieces from my past, even if it is just old pieces of notebook paper with things scribbled on them! and i’m with you that it’s hard to let go of things like that. maybe you could make some sort of little scrap book if you had enough of them?? that’s a really beautiful poem!
xo,
jessie
yes! a scrapbook! i really love that idea :) can’t believe i never thought of it haha.. thank you, love!