The Worn Pages

of words and lives

Dusty bookstores holding shelves 
leading to corridors winding into 
infinite bindings hard and soft where 
each edition holds a life, a story, some 
familiar, most not.

Chronicles of sacred text on worn pages
paying homage to lives past and present.
It is the inextricable sound of snow falling
on a frozen pond, so faint, almost lost.

Almost.

In each of these, a dream, a hope, a want
a need, a fear; glances at our seminal being
raw and wide for the taking by thirsty eyes 
yearning quench.

Here they stand side by side, searing glances
into the universal truth of where we live. 
Let me fill my pages with words from yours
and yours with words from mine.