Looking back on written things
In hope, one might reveal
The secret to the writer’s mind
Something hidden might conceal
First impressions, simple judgements
Where subjects twist and turn
Mischief in a coded secret
Ink stains shape what we discern
Lines inviting to imagine
Meanings waiting to be learned
Yet every phrase, each half-turned word
Is a door lock unconcerned
Inviting those who linger here
To see what might be matched
Shadows linger in the margins
As solutions are unlatched
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