pages worn and torn but i read you.....  your cover is battered and hard but i read you  pages blankets, pages with spaces , pages unseen 

you tell a story you paint a scene, 

in between the lines, in your mind 

there is knowledge of time 

an understanding of all the little things sublime which enchant you to write this story 

with or without a shame your life is an allegory without a shame and as the pages keep on turning i hope to find my name if not for a chapter, maybe for half a phrase 

a new hint of my being,

a new illusion , 

 so that someday when someone reads you, they will know what this poem means