Just Paper

The papers shifted, a small sigh

from the pile, then the edge gave way.

I saw the first one slip,

a corner curling, reaching for air.

A fan of white, a slow cascade,

each sheet catching light,

then turning over, silent, soft,

down to the rug.

A single one, delayed,

spun like a leaf

before it settled, face down,

near my shoe.

I watched it all.

The small sound of the fall.

Didn't reach. Just let it land.

A stillness then.