The pages of my old book,
Hold my memories of yesterday,
Every smile, every tear,
Every person who came my way.

Each line is a heartbeat,
Each word a tender embrace,
Moments etched in ink,
That time cannot erase.

A love that bloomed in spring,
A friendship lost to fall,
Dreams that soared like eagles,
And hopes that stood so tall.

Laughter that echoed brightly,
Sorrows that whispered low,
Joys that danced in sunlight,
Pains only my heart would know.

The pages yellowed with age,
Yet their stories never fade,
They speak of a life well-lived,
Of the memories that were made.

So, I turn each fragile page,
With reverence and delight,
For the book of my yesterdays,
Holds the essence of my Life.
© christian06030