The Words Don't Change

Once upon a time,
I sat to read a poem.

I swayed with the rhythm,
Found beauty in its words.

Having finished reading,
I put the poem back on its shelf,
Going on with my life.

Years later,
I cleaned a shelf.

As I brushed it off,
A piece of paper came floating down.

I picked it up,
And scanned it over.

It held a poem,
It's name brought back memories of beauty.

Once again,
I sat to read a poem.

As I read,
I swayed with the rhythm,
But found no beauty in its words.

I found pain and longing,
I saw a world of beauty, marred by memories of loss.

In this world of words,
I found hope and a promise.

I put the poem up on a wall,
To remind myself of that hope and promise.

Many see it and see what I first saw.
They find the beauty in its words.

Other read it and see what I now see.
The hope and promise.

Others yet read it,
And find something else.

Every now and then,
I read that poem.

Sometimes I find the beauty I once saw.
Sometimes I find that hope and promise.
Sometimes I find something else.

But that's alright.
When I read that poem,
I find what I need at the moment.

The words are always the same,
But I change,
And so does their meaning.