Today will be the last work done here,
the end of a piece of a journey.
Can I just go out and buy new insides for you?
(I just did)
Will those bright empty pages
gleam out at me--
scare me a bit,
circumvent the navigation of my pencil?
Where will you go
when I take you from this cover?
Leather has protected fragile pages,
filled with marginal poetry--
Will you feel the light more harshly,
find a place in my stacks,
papers softly tearing over time,
so carefully wrought?
And in the advancing years
will I still know you,
or will ganglia tear softly
copyright/All rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2012