Sewn To The Pages Of My Life

Still unwritten not quite, filled in every word has pinned itself to story like a sewing machine stitch down a runway path to somewhere; Turning points and zig zag threading let the seams tell of the glory Pages of my life sealed inside a book like bookends at a fairground holding steady until the rider mounts; Still unwritten not yet ready to wear, this garmented padded book of tales isn't finished yet, ... Until a dried rose gets pressed against the pages of my life, my eulogy stands told in my book, of life.