The Finding

It was just an old piece of paper, but it held a message.

She had been on one of her many nature walks when she found it. It was torn and damp when she picked it up. The words were written in a large scrawl with some of the lines not easily legible.

It was a poem. A love poem.

Reading through as best she could, it seemed to be unfinished. The words went to the other side of the paper, with its ending showing that there was more to come.

The first lines read,

‘If I had known him forever

That would not be enough time

Such a beautiful fella

And a good friend of mine.’

Was this from a woman to a man or a man to a man, a man to a woman or a woman to a woman? In truth, it doesn’t matter, love is where you find it, and this person had obviously found it.

The finder only knew she was holding something precious.

Was it written here or somewhere else? Was it brought here one day and lost or discarded. Will it be missed? Will the writer manage to claw back the words already written? Was it given a new birth somewhere else and finished? Was it ever passed on to the one it was intended for?

There was an element of mystery to the thing, but it was clear that somewhere, at some time, someone, had found love.

It was just an old piece of paper, but it held a message.

Inside the message something more was found… for love is where you find it.