Digging up old words.
Misplaced, now covered in dust.
Stacked in shoddy piles worth keeping, but seldom used.
She wondered if they had any life left in them.
If the words had any inkling of where they had come from.
If they remembered their source and his intentions.
If they resembled his voice still, or had all of their sound been rung out and dried over the years.
And as she held the words up to examine them with her aged eyes, she caught a glimpse of him.
In the curves of the letters and the message on the page.
At just the right angle, his memory appeared clearly to her there.
Brought back from the dust to reclaim an old heart.