This Saturday Afternoon

Imagine a spot so quiet and serene
this Saturday afternoon;
but don’t tell anyone where it is—
you don’t know after all—,
and it’d kill the darkened oak’s purpose
that feels your pen’s tip 
caressing it through your cream paper. 

Nothing can get in the way
so keep it your secret—
even when people stop going there, too,
and nobody knows the place 
when you mention it
(which you shouldn’t). 

Even when you want a change 
and abandon it forever, perhaps. 

Keep it tucked away
like the weed you hide 
but tell everyone about anyway. 

Like your verse and primal voice 
unsounded. 

Like all of your characters 
you can’t bring out anywhere. 

Bring them to me 
and leave them there
forever. 

Edited line breaks

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