My Worn, Torn, Decrepid Book
The worn, torn, decepid book,
Sits in silence all alone.
Hiding stories from in and out,
Stories only it can ever own.
I want to open it, need to witness,
But its pages are welded tight.
This closed, red ribboned book,
Stares and glares defiantly every night.
This worn, torn decrepid book
Came from a beautiful loved past life.
Closed, it keeps our secrets hidden,
Safe from any past lived strife.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016
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