Hid Me Well

Words really hid me well,

Under the shyness of the doorbell.

They paired me to what I wanted to say,

It was more than just a Hey!

So the paper then carried an ink,

From white towards the bluish tink.

It was written to convey truth,

Guarding a stash of me with abundant ruth.

For frost of sadness would have grown,

If I had not shared the snow, been alone.

The paper that had lines before,

Was then my present's core.

A letter framed with some spellings,

Those were some pleas and dismays.

But the first and last that left on the page chilling,

As my feelings on that thick piece were plays.