The borders of this book

puckered

corners

curled upward

tiny claws,

as if wet overnight

dry

by morning

 

These edges

tell the tale

of years

paper fingers

forge

the truth

of love

sacrifice

commitment

 

Time smells like

musk

dust –

saturation

widens the binding

and the story

is a blossom

petals unfurl

 

We save these

upon our shelves

like trophies

displayed

in a row

vertical

autobiographies,

soldiers,

protecting what

was

 

I see you

next to the coveted first editions of

Catcher in the Rye

Henderson the Rain King

The Princess Bride –

and I will save you until the end

because only then

are the chapters complete.