My babies - last of the Mohiccans

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Paperback Writer

Weary, roughened, and forlorn,
I'm a paperback writer,
who tells stories,
of people, places and towns.

Presupposed thoughts
permeate my mind,
threading through the lives
of real people and their times.

The story evolves
from beginning, middle, to the end;
With crescendos of emotions
peaking high and low.

She picks me up gently
and leafs through my pages;
The edges are bent
from bookmarks left behind.

The cover is faded.
I am slammed shut
while she sleeps;
Her mind filled with all of my thoughts.

Morning has broken
I am picked up again
and read;
Minds are stirred. 

When the book is done,
I'm just a pile on the shelf. 
just a paragraph
in other peoples lives.

Apr 23, 2017

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