I write my own path
on aged paper
crinkled at the ends
My journeys are novels
with ink on the faded page
mixed with tears of joy and sorrow
My memories are words
present at the moment
yet slowly fading away
My body is the cover
protecting the cargo
that lies within
My place is on the bookshelf
to collect the dust
that settles from above
maiden of the stars Community Member 
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