It was the bee who showed me

the withered edge of the fried egg poppy.  Those petals like sheaves of paper.  Delicate yet tensile.  The bee, determined.  
 

It's that time of year

 When paper and sun meet at the intersection of "happy."  

How paper sees

ink. Perhaps, how paper anticipates the next gesture.  What are you anticipating?  What, gesturing

 

Getting a handle

on things via a spoon is a fine afternoon activity in a favorite cafe. Pen/paper close by. Memories, too.

Bark, paper & peeling paint

Trees have color so why shouldn't they have peeling paint? Besides, light splashes trees with color, and bark is amazing -- it's properties & tactile qualities.  I think it's from bark that my love of paper sprung.  And in the kitchen, you ask?  Cinnamon sticks, of course.

Isn't

A home without a fruit bowl, isn't
A home without a book, isn't.
A home without pen & paper, isn't.
A heart without a voice is no home.

Spoon

The Progression of Spoon

from hand
to pot
to lips
to mouth
to you
to your
back
as much
camera
as mirror
the pen
seeks
paper

How do lemons and the paper a poem is written on resemble each other?

The short direct answer is shape.
Lemons beg to rest in a shape resembling a bowl. Concave. The love of a lip.
Poems love to recline. Yes, think bed. Poems are smitten by rest.

What do plates and paper bring to the poem?

Size, dimensionality & deadline.
Also, hunger defined. Satisfied.

Now, let's implicate the pen.