#WritcoPoemPrompt16
The pages of my old book,
Hold my memories of yesterday,
Every smile, every tear,
Every person who came my way
carefully their images it bear

such old rusty book,
wielding each day of my life
in each page that it took.
and securing the pleasures that I should from such derive

should I flip to the glossy pages alone,
my rumpled pages appear,
leave the book idly on the shelf,
and the jealous wind of memories
flutter the sheets to my naked sight

meet me at crossroads,
I stand with the book in my hand
should I surrender I to the Earth,
it's virgin pages shall witness such dirt.
should I betray it to the ambitious flames,
surely there will be no more pages to write upon

sheer confusion gag my speech,
I hear a sage whisper,
it should be my sense of danger musing.
"since the old pages won't tear off,
nor the oily pages disguise,
rather have no table of contents "

To my precious old book,
you've been no light to my path
you've been the path
the path sheer pathology can't determine
the hurt ignorant therapy can't disguise
behaviour uncle psychology's jaws fall open to

it'll be no use to stain your pages
with water bulbs from my eye
only let me say one prayer
you leave me no glossary to look up
yes,
no ' about the book' to get an idea
okay,
no teacher to coach me on its usage
quite alright,
not even picture pages for vivid discerning
I habour no resentment at that.

only do me one favour
let this rustic book out of my reach
no! not on the shelf I see your shadow
never the Earth
nor the flames
just get it into Oblivion
and if you can't...
well, I want my precious old book back .

#fountaINK PENultimate


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