The Lost Script

A faded card, from some lost year,

'Happy Birthday' in a hand so clear.

Looping 'e's, a deliberate cross,

a kind of careful elegance I'd lost.

My name, a confident, tall 'J',

a script I haven't seen since yesterday,

or maybe ten years back. Now it's a scrawl,

a hurried scribble, catching a fall.

Today, the grocery list, a frantic line,

pen dragging, a scratch that's barely mine.

The letters run together, a tired blur,

a ghost of the person I used to prefer.