My Old Journal

Weather- worn tatters

Loved for its memories

Though it isn’t written there

I still remember

 

The first page

Used to stand bare

Scared to write on

But oh so tempting

 

Nicks and bangs

Showing the places

It has lived

Though you won’t understand

 

New isn’t always better

Familiar, old friend

Sitting on a shelf

Waiting to be of use

-Kel Dayheart

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