Pages Poem by Dustin Newman

Open the book.
Read to me our story.

'Upon ones chest, subtly breaks.
Don't strip the bandage from me so easily.
Refrain from planting seeds of past content.
Snow upon a white covered mountain,
it means nothing.
Each morning, solace delivers not a word.
Awaits comfort from any willing source.
It does not come.'

The pages float, one side to the next.
A love story of incomplete nature.
Abundant lines bring tragedy yet I yearn
to picture a smile.
The tired cloth folds between a chapter.
Tomorrow, we will see.