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The Diary

I bought an old steamer trunk, At the flea market one day. It was still in great condition, Though the paint had some decay. I brought it home, then cut the lock, And I took a look inside. Letters, old clothes, and photographs, Were the contents that I spied. And when I got to the bottom, As if waiting there for me, I found, wrapped in a satin scarf, Somebody’s old diary. So out of curiosity, I picked the lock with my knife, Opened it, and began to read, About a girl and her life. The woman’s name was Vivian, And her candor made me smile. I decided to have a seat, And read for a little while. I laughed with her in her triumphs, Lamented losses unspoken, I cheered at her happy endings, And wept when her heart was broken. And there were pictures of it all, That she’d dated on the back. Even her wedding photograph, When she wed her husband Jack. I followed her entire life, Every detail afforded, I hung on every word she wrote, And every thought recorded. I felt my heart begin to ache, Something I did not foresee. I found myself envying Jack, And wishing that he’d been me. How could I have fallen in love With a ghost out of the past? A memory from long ago, A life that has long since passed. Hers was an elegant beauty, Her spirit bright as a star, She reached through time and touched my soul Like an Angel from afar. I hope she could see from Heaven, As her words reached out to me. How she came to life In my mind, When I read her diary.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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