Arial Black

I walk through the long corridors

On the basement of my mind

As I switch on the lights

In the darkest corners

To find an old tattered song

A forgotten scar, a kiss.

The sort that sent beautiful chills

Sepia photographs, slam books.

Smell of a wrinkled leather-bound journal

Patina on its copper bookmark

The innocent curves and slants

Of a cursive hand, a dreamy mortal

In royal blue, the smudges

Of a leaky fountain pen.

The font on the screen

Promptly breaks my reverie

Arial black,

Font size eleven.