Poem #41: February 15th, 2010

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An Old Book

Dusty cover, musty smell.

Yellowed, crumbling pages.

The well worn creases in the binding.

Missing numbers, words,

Some pages barely readable.

Sitting in its special place on a shelf,

Nearly falling apart.

But by just looking or even touching it,

It brings back fond memories of years past.

Sent down through generations,

The words, the story, known by heart.

But no matter how old it gets or how unreadable,

It will have a fond place in all hearts,

And many lifetimes of memories with it.

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