And I've got  this book
to live in
to fill it with handwritten
Promises  and lies
triumphs and trials
he-loves-me's and he-loves-me-not's

Will I write in it slowly?
Or quickly, than all at once?
fill it with good ink,
precious ink
Ink of breath of love of spirit.

And will I end it beautifully?
No regrets or hope.
But just knowledge of the life
to come.

Will the pages be worn
And well lived
Broken in
And blessedly warm.