We
spend an entire lifetime,
As
the author of a book...
Though most will never know
it,
Give it not a thought nor
look.
Today I reached to get my
own,
My
hands were shaking slightly...
Unopened for such a
long time,
Covered
with dust unsightly.
It
is my own and no one else,
Would like it nor lay
claim...
It
is the book of my own life,
With no one else to
blame.
The
chapters when I was a tyke,
Exploring my own
world...
Then later on, as young
adult,
Events lay bare,
unfurled.
The
good and bad, and crazy things,
We
all are wont to do...
Exposed for all our
dignity,
In
words simple but true.
The
joys I've known as years flew past,
No
end seemed close nor real...
Until the jolt of loved ones
gone,
Brings heartache that I now
feel.
Who
then to take an interest?
Who might I then
entrust...
To
care for that, which bares my soul,
When one blows back the
dust?
Too
soon the book that is my life,
Will lay closed
and forgotten...
Its
chapters gleaned from life itself,
Some happy, some
ill-gotten.
Unfortunately we give no
thought,
As
life we navigate...
For chapters that are added
to,
The
book that is our fate.
So each new chapter in my
book,
Is added one by one...
No new words when I, too
am gone,
It's then my book is
done.
(c) 07/26/08 Loree (Mason)
O'Neil
Midi playing is: As Long As I
Live
