Chapters

Chapters passed years ago, important while they were lived.
They center of my life, now hazy memories of time past.
There are hints of where I've been, the pictures of both people and place.
In the end they are left behind, the book of life ever written on.

Hidden words are out of reach, pages known but then not seen.
The years have passed, this is true, but what did happen is unclear.
Was it written in a secret ink, or in a code no longer known?
The reasons for the void are unclear, where are the chapters I could read?

Bookmarks through photos old,  images show where paths were walked.
The groves are lost to weeds, memories vague where we once played.
Images show the ones we loved, perhaps the souls now lost to time.
Words fail the pictures seen, memories lost as tears flow.

The chapters continue on, written as the days pass day.
Weeks follow the months, leading to the years.
The wheel turns as script notate on the pages of a life full lived.
I wish I could fully read the chapters that came before.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160306.

The poem “Chapters” was another waking from sleep inspiration.  If your life were a book, could you remember the majority of what's been written?