The Book of Leaves

Freeform Poetry / Lyrics

I hold my hand out and the grass
Rushes through my fingers "
I look at window silhouettes
And everything is different;

I turn another page
In The Book of Leaves
It crumbles to dust in my hand
Photographs of distant moments
In The Book Of Leaves
The story of another kind of life
That no-one reads

I walk in silence
Stand in darkness
Talking to the trees

My diary of you and me is called
The Book Of Leaves

I am not the man she loves
No-one really knows me
I’m the album on the shelf
That you have never played "

Somehow changed
Re-arranged
And nothing is the same

She writes another entry
In The Book Of Leaves
Engraves another memory
That no-one sees

Tries to write a different ending
in the Book Of Leaves
An invisible, dead language
Only I can read

Reviews

[Translated from Birdson..]

I do write lyrcis - I have notebooks full of about a skwillion...

[TrimarcoRansome]

Wow! I knew we would be in for a treat when you said you had joined the café, you have not let us down! This is a beautifully written and thought provoking piece, I love this part;

"I am not the man she loves
No-one really knows me
I’m the album on the shelf
That you have never played "

You should be writing some lyrics, I feel.