Bring your true mindful word to me
I will listen like a patient friend,
Get all the ink you have.. but forgive
the absence of the mirroring trend...
enriching stories,yes,wonderful so far
someone surely should pen them down
but It's way past the printing hour..
Oh! My friend I fret,you must understand
I cannot be written on this time because
I am not an active diary anymore in hand...
Searching a blank page won't serve you well
Yes, In the wee hours, if you like to read
I do hold good thoughts, and memories to tell..
Do you realize, I am safely bound by leather
helping brittle pages survive changing weather...
Cannot be vain, as I am a small bit of the whole,
yet,afraid I'm replete with elements of a brimming soul
One day you created me in naivety to the core
Today wiser lay I, protecting secrets safely stored..
But you must realize little more than the biting truth
I might be the planted seed,also the tree bearing fruit
Living in library I sit quiet on the wooden rack
spared of the tireless pen that inked me front to back..
My friend, there's more to write of the new world
slowly and urgently fresh pages need to be sought,
Flip through, in me might lay a key to the next thought
sure can borrow me for a day, spend time if you must
as I insist you realize now, that I am not
just a diary any longer, Not the present
but like history, a completion of time to trust.
