The Book

I found a book lying on the seat,
On the Express Train.
An old tattered one,
Bookmarked with dog eared pages.
I waited for someone to notice it too,
But nobody there was.
I picked it up and peered at it.
Astonished.
No author. No title.
Carefully flipping through the pages,
Worn with age & use,
I find it filled with questions.
Thousands of them.
One after the other.
"Where are the answers?", I wonder.
I turn to the last page and find the title there.
One word. 
"Life", it said. 
And I get my answers,
To all the questions.

Comments

  1. Maria MorisotJun 25, 2018, 7:19:00 PM

    Beautiful poem. Might I suggest though you get rid of the floating subscribe tab? It made it very difficult to read.

    I might even subscribe if it disappears!

    ReplyDelete

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