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
 
 
 

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