A Second Look (At What Becomes a Book)

Moments meld like syllables

One into the next

Sighs, unintelligible

Weave a sacred text

Thought is like an instrument

Fueling reply

Touch becomes the testament

Of love’s days gone by

Each new day is like a page

Whereon Time is traced

Where its transcript, age through age

Cannot be erased

Tide of tangerine and gold

Fades into the blue

While beneath its sky we mold

Ink of say and do

Weaving, with each memory

More than we may think

Authoring a life-story

Without page or ink

© Janet Martin

Today's page definitely needs to include some domestic duties😉