Three short lines carry a quiet, private sadness. The speaker and his wife have lost a friend, and the poem gives us almost nothing else: no name, no cause, no story. Instead we get one image, a paper heart, and the word "heavy."
That pairing is what makes the poem work. A paper heart is light, fragile, and easy to crush, yet the couple feel weighed down. The contrast suggests how grief can make even a small, delicate thing, or a small gesture of love, feel enormous. The title "Folded" might point to the heart itself, but it also hints at people folding inward, bent under their loss. That reading is an inference, but it fits the mood.
The tone is hushed and restrained. By saying "my wife and I," the speaker makes the sorrow something shared, a grief felt together in a home rather than announced loudly. The brevity leaves space, as if words are hard to find.