by Eddie Borden (September 2024)
Life is the book that writes itself
The ink and paper of reality
Love is the music and lyrics of life
It is the dance and the chant, the melody and harmony
I wish to find her on every page, paragraph, and line
I want to hear her in each refrain, chorus, and note
Until the day the ink fades, the paper yellows, cracks, and burns
The strings break, the reeds split, the brass becomes green, and bent
When all is silence and ashes
We will have lived our story
We will have sung our son
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Eddie Borden is retired and living in San Antonio, Texas, with four cats and a dog. Divorced, army veteran, some college, considers himself a compulsive poet, and delusionally romantic. When not creating poems he writes short stories, novels and plays—all for the love of writing.
Follow NER on Twitter @NERIconoclast
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