My world is now a growing book
And long ago, I marked a page
The words were written in
So I let them age
Scribbled in
Jotted down
Names and places
January through December
Turn the papers
Back through time
So I can read
So I can remember
The written words
The spoken lines
The time that I was yours
And you were mine
And every night, I read to see
The part of you that once was me.
PUBLICATION: The Crier, Vol. 35, No. 3, October 24, 1997, Corning Community College.
HISTORY: Another Summer '96 poem, inspired by the large pile of journals I wrote during 1994, and written about no particular person.
As with "Corral" (my most recently-published poem before this one), I had it printed under the name of a different author.
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