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by Shonda Creemer

I have one for love,
& I have one for hurt.

I have one for the present,
as well as the past;
but I'm not so sure about the future.

So that one has yet to be written.

There are several small volumes
that contain my most candid
and precious thoughts.

These are only penned
and confirmed in the
moments of life when
they are calling to me.

I am listening, my children.

Many Mistakes.
Volumes---One through Twenty-nine

One for every year.

These I suppose
are read more frequently.

I must not be heeding
their lessons, because
I am not learning from them.

Repeated Mistakes.
My best seller.
(sequel to Many Mistakes)

Dust, you ask?

No, there are not many
who are covered with dust.

Maybe one on Happiness
or perhaps her sister
called Peace.

I think that they
have been dusty
for awhile now.

One day I hope
to pull these two down,
remove the layers of life
from them; and open them up.

Never to be shelved again,
on this my

Bookcase of Life

07/22/2004

Posted on 10/26/2004
Copyright © 2021 Shonda Creemer

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kimberly Bare on 10/26/04 at 03:32 AM

wonderful simile...I have enjoyed this look into your volumes...well done!

Posted by Ashok Sharda on 10/28/04 at 03:27 AM

yes, we are multitude, one for every occasion, for every mood, for every association without as well as within.

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