An open book, back to front, we know how the story ends.
Life's chapters, short or long, somehow, seamlessly meld and blend.
Where one page starts another stops and starts all o'er again.
Calendars save and notes remind of when and where to be,
our life's footnotes, planned and lived, and some we'll never see.
Live your life, and a life that's lived, is dead, eased to eternity.
Every day a wondrous tale that opens another book.
Our days thus lived build volumes of, precious memories, forsook.
We tell and share with those we know and intertwine the tales,
until the story resembles that which with we can regale.
I now look on my back pages, more than lie afore,
but ready turn, with courage new, the page, to tomorrows door.