There are thousands.
Each with a slightly different feel
a different scent.
Each one remarkable
with a hidden story waiting to be revealed
waiting to be opened.
Its cover shows such beauty
Worn yet ready to be.
Opening lines draw her in
Before she even settles in the chair,
her mind is captured
Her imagination flows pages ahead
Hours pass by
It lies perfectly in the curves of her hands
The binding tightening with each turn of the page
Her heart invested
The waves of words fall over the last as she waits
waits for the next page
for the final page
But there's no final page.
There's no ending to this tale
Lines cross out what could have been
the story never complete
The binding breaks in two
as she returns it to its former life
She continues down the row
her journey through life
Drawing her fingertips across the unknown
the story simply fades away in her memory
She waits for an ending
an ending to her search
for her story.
