Love Poem | S. Katie Hill

Noteworthy


What is it about notebooks?

Is it the way they smell like the autumn, yet feel like a crisp winter’s day?

Is it the way the wire spirals through pages of bliss, trepidation, and despair and binds them as one?

Is it simply the way notebooks can be filled with such wonderful thoughts, ideas, and creations

Or left unblemished and perfect?

Is it the way opportunity blossoms from the pages, yet grows in one’s heart?

Or is it the way a notebook is so much like a person—decorated any way one chooses, yet contains so much more than appearances can convey?