The Empty Bookshelf
I felt they belonged here, I really did
Those books with no pages,
Those ink stained fingers, that left no traces,
The gift of those voices, which had no faces
That I learned to treasure so.
I thought they would be mine forever,
A present, for me to hold
That they would be frozen here, eternally,
In one magnificent,
Breathtaking
Tableau
Sitting here, on my shelf
But nothing is forever,
Not even phantom voices,
No matter how badly
I may want to hold on.
And so, too soon,
They were gone,
And yet, their smiles,
Their hearts,
And their heartfelt tears
Somewhere, deep in my soul,
Still lingers on
I have their stories, imprinted, indelibly
Upon my grateful heart
And even though they no longer
Belong here, they will still always be here,
The gift that makes me
The me that I am,
And the me,
That I always dreamed
That I could be
And so, I know
That they still live here,
Dance here,
Frolic here,
And breathe here,
Forever…
Even if they are only
In the voice of my song
© 2009 Morning Song
(All rights reserved)
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