In beautiful cursive
Some hands on paper are admirable, not deformed like my
strange strangled script. The good ones aren’t classically ‘beautiful’ but
distinct, with a confident solidity on the page. Some presence.
No one’s penmanship improves with age. Sometimes a change in
handwriting hints at a change in health we hadn’t suspected.
Years ago, I used my cursive as cipher to confound
prying eyes. Who will we be when almost no one
can read it?
With age I now have to work really hard to have any legibility at all