book pages

book pages, old and smelling
of mildew and decay,
line this heart with
unknown conclusions…
once printed beyond the stars,
i linger now and await
what words might unfold
themselves
as the scenario of time plays-
and all that I once thought I knew
about character development
lies wasted at my feet;
i’ve lost the plot thread now
and there’s just no going back
to reread the pages
so hovering about, waiting for
the page to turn, for the plot to
reveal itself, this heart silently
stands by, with bated breath, for
the next chapter

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